I didn't start dreaming until i met you
by x-Midnight-Writer-x
Summary: Inspector Javert is, well, Inspector Javert. He is the law. He is cruel, ruthless, and heartless at times. What does he do when a prisoner appears in a cell that is supposedly empty? She shows him kindness, offer him friendship, despite his mistrust. She is undoubtedly beautiful. But she is a street rat. What should the dear inspector do? M for later chapters. Please review :)
1. Morning patrol

**Right so obviously i own NOTHING. It's all inspired from the genius of Les Miserables. Erm R&R would be appreciated ;)**

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He never got used to the smell . The smell of rot, faeces, and despair. The smell of death. Yet that was what greeted him every morning when he patrolled the cells. For the hour of patrol he would walk past the cells, glaring at each prisoner, and bathe in the satisfaction of his job. The thieves, murderers, and rapists were behind bars; in the prisons care. In _his_ care. Those deemed unworthy to roam the streets looked at him with hatred as he walked by. He thrived on that hatred.

Inspector Javert left his office at ten am every day to walk the length and breadth of the rectangle prison. He inspected every prisoner. He had seen it all. Some wailed, some screeched and cursed him, whilst others glowered at him. It was those prisoners, the ones with murder on their minds and lips, that he would take time to stare down.

It was late Autumn. It was not warm. Some prisoners died in the night whilst other caught pneumonia or hypothermia. Javert did not feel an ounce of guilt however. It was warmer in the jail than it was on the Parisian streets where he found them.

He left his immaculate office, straightened his collar and started his patrol.

** T**he only thing she could focus on was the cold. Leaning against the back wall of her cell she pulled her shawl tighter around her. Nicolette didn't know _how_ she had ended up here. Nor why. Yet here she was. She had never broken a law in her life, and she didn't intend to. She remembered falling asleep in her usual spot; under the big Oak tree in the park. Then she woke up here. At first she had been terrified. Everyone in Paris knew what happened to woman in jail. Some returned to the street disfigured, beaten, emotionally broken. Most didn't return at all.

But so far her visit had been uneventful. She had the sense to count four hours passing since she had woken. It felt like four years. But undoubtedly the worst thing was the woman next to her. Weeping and snivelling in the corner without even a pause for breathe. That and the smell of course.

Her hand were shackled together but her bare feet were free. She shivered again and blew warm air into her hands. She was waiting; for quite what she did not know. But she was waiting.

The woman next door had been reduced to a simpering when she heard it. It was faint at first, but it was gradually becoming louder. A slow and steady thud, like a heartbeat, or a drum. Echoing round the prison. Eventually it dawned on her that it was in fact footsteps. But she did not bother moving, content to just listen curiously. As the footsteps came to the cell next to her the simpering woman burst to life. She cried and wailed and threw herself at the bars.

"Be quiet little rat" A gravelly voice flooded in from the dark. It was deep and menacing. And it worked. The woman scurried to the back of her cell and coward in the corner.

Nicolette stood, out of curiosity and pure relief. She silently shifted to the front of her cell, but not to the bars/ One footsteps, two, three. One more and she came face to face with the man every criminal in Paris; and perhaps France, feared. He was the tallest man she had ever stood this close to. She could tell he was broad and muscular beneath his uniform. He had a square jaw and auburn hair that was greying at the side. His mouth was set in a grim line. But what struck her most was his eyes. Piercing green and framed with thick lashes, glaring at her in the gloom.


	2. He thought he had seen it all

**So this is only short, i had uploaded the first chapter and just couldn't stop! XD more tomorrow :)**

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Satisfied that the hysterical prostitute had been silenced, Inspector Javert moved on to the next cell which, according to his paperwork; was empty. But as he drew nearer he realised that there was in fact someone there. He frowned and checked again There had definitely been a mistake. He took one more large step and stood in full view of the cell.

A young woman was standing in the dark prison. Slim but not skinny. A little dirty but not grimy. Her clothes were not that of a street whore, but they were not that of someone who could afford clothes. A simple dress that was modest. A small belt and a thin skirt. She did not look like the usual scum from the street. Javert scowled at the prisoner who was not meant to be. She had clear blue eyes and a pretty, if dirty, face. With just a hint of freckles sprinkled over her nose beneath the dirt. He couldn't tell her hair colour, but he would have said (very) dirty blonde. She had high cheekbones and salmon pink lips. He studied her and she studied him. He though he had seen it all. But he was silently struck dumb when those lips turned upwards into a genuine smile. And he could have fallen over in shock when a honey-smooth voice wished him a good morning. Glaring at her he moved on and stormed past the last five cells.

His frown deepened and his temper flared. His subordinated fled from his path and his colleagues eyed him warily as he strode to his office. When he slammed the door shut; the whispers began. Something had definitely upset the Inspector.

In his office, his haven, Javert sat in a cloud of confused fury. He sat behind his desk. It was heavy and wooden. Sturdy and reliable - just as he liked. His long legs were stretched out in front of him and he tapped on the wooden surface. His breathing was heavy. His mind was a whirlwind. He gazed into the flames of his fireplace and wondered what the hell had just happened. He thought he had seen it all. But all he had seen was the dark side of humanity.

"Good morning." For the briefest moment the policeman's eyes had widened before narrowing even further. He had left in a cloud of anger and Nicolette had been left alone again. She sighed and returned to the back of her cell.  
"This could be interesting." She muttered in the dark.

"What do you mean?" Javert's voice could be heard thundering around the entire prison. He towered over a young boy of no more that twenty. The lad adjusted his glasses and glanced down at the records clutched in his clammy hand.

"I-I mean there's n-no record of her ev-ever being arrested sir." He stuttered. He reddened furiously and stared at the floor.

"Well if she hasn't been arrested," Javert murmured quietly. "HOW CAN SHE BE IN MY PRISON CELL?!" The boy shrank back and squeezed his eyes shut.

"I-I don't know sir." He whimpered. The Inspector was the single biggest nightmare of his life. He was terrifying and admirable at the same time.

"Well find out!" The Inspector bellowed as he took great striding steps towards the cells. He would get to the bottom of this, if it was the last thing he did.


	3. Playing Games

**Right so this is the next chapter :) I hope you like! R&R x**

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Nicolette had given up counting the hours. Instead she sat with her back to the wall, and her eyes closed, thinking. Just thinking, About her childhood. Everything she could recall. Her hopes, her dreams, and her fears. The taste of forgotten foods. Melodies she had hidden away. She thought of her life as it was. Of all the corners of the World. But, disturbingly, her thoughts kept returning to the greatest Inspector Paris could offer. Although he was a cold, heartless bastard; she found him handsome, his eyes captured her attention, his voice played in her head.

"You there." The same voice growled. Her eyes snapped open and she got to her feet.

"Yes?" she replied approaching the bars.

"When and why were you arrested?" She gazed up at him in confusion.

"I haven't a clue."

"Do not play games with me wretch!" he thundered. Men, woman and even his own colleagues would crumble and shy away when he shouted. But yet this girl did not even flinch.

"I honestly do not know." She said in a tone; so light hearted, it was as if she was talking about a missing button. "I went to sleep under the big Oak in the park, and woke up here."

Something in her voice, or maybe it was her sky-blue eyes, made him want to trust her. But it was this compulsion that made him even more distrustful. He came closer to the bars and sneered down at her.

"If I find out you're lying to me, you little rat," he hissed "I'll make sure you spend the rest of your miserable life behind these bars." She raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"That's some threat." She murmured. Javert snarled and stalked off again.

Over the following weeks he launched a full scale investigation into the mysterious appearance of Nicolette. He began to do his prison rounds twice daily, to keep an eye on her. Every day, twice a day, she would greet him with a friendly; Good morning, hello, or ask him how he was. The police Inspector never replied and had come to the conclusion she was simply insane. But, fascinatingly, he did find himself almost looking _forwards_ to seeing her. People were rarely civil to him. And it was difficult to remember the last time someone had been pleasant. It was perplexing for him, and he definitely didn't trust her, but he found he almost liked it.

Nicolette meanwhile, was beginning to loose hope of ever escaping. It felt like years since she had felt the crisp Autumn air on her face. If you could call the foul sloppy substance a meal, she had received eighteen. Eighteen days she had been in this terrible place. She had enjoyed just thinking, being at one with herself and her thoughts. She had learned to enjoy life again. But she missd the outside world. She had fallen in love with life, but she was not living. And the other prisoners had began to talk. They had noticed her cheery greetings to Paris's most hated. She knew they were planning to 'sort her out'. Nicolette just didn't know when.

Javert sat in his office, thoroughly confused. Which meant, to look at, his frown was just a little deeper than normal. Nearly three weeks had passed and his investigation had uncovered nothing. None of his police force had admitted to arresting her. There was not a single document concerning her existence. Nothing in the log book. And the station records showed that not one of his officers were even _near_ the park where she said she was. Not that he believed her, but nobody had seen her come in, not even the other prisoners knew how she had got there. One Gypsy wench had claimed it was dark magic and destiny. He had sneered at her at the time, but by now he was close to believing it. If he had no grounds to hold her on, she would have to be let go.

He had a feeling they had been playing a game. One where he didn't know the rules. And he had a feeling he had just lost.


	4. Deadly gatherings

**There's a bit of violence in this chapter, just saying, and a little bit of swearing :) R&R**

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He left his immaculate office, straightened his collar, and walked towards the cells. An assisting officer began trotting dutifully along behind his long strides. He was walking through the prison when he abruptly stopped. The assisting officer nearly walked into him and stopped with a soft;

"Oh!".

"What is it sir?" He asked. The Inspector narrowed his eyes and listened hard

"Do you hear that?" his voice was deep and menacing. The young policeman shook his head.

"I can't hear anything sir."

"Exactly" Javert muttered as he took off even quicker than before. Turning a sharp corner they found a line of cell doors, wide open, and lacking prisoners behind them.

"I want every officer, assisting officer, mail boy, patrolman and pen pusher down here quicker than you can think the words 'Mary mother of God'." The Inspector hissed. His subordinate fled back towards the offices with an air of sheer terror and bloody panic. Javert's frown deepened and he swept onwards. Each cell was empty. Every inmate, from the common thieves to the psychopathic serial killers were out. They could not get out of the prison, he reassured himself. But he didn't know how they were out, and he couldn't think why. He turned the second corner and immediately found his missing prisoners. A large crowd of undesirables was accumulated around the single cell that was five away from the exit. Javert narrowed his eyes.

Quicker than a man half his age he had reached the edge of the throng. The prison was not so silent anymore. Large men with batons and bits of pipe, small men with knives and daggers, all shouting and swearing. Women screeched and cackled in delight. All of them acting like the caged animals they were, stripped of their humanity, reverting to the barbaric nature of their ancestors.

Javert pushed through, shoving and kicking, pulling and barging.

She had never been in so much pain. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to blink. It hurt to live. She knew that when they had come, they had come for her life, but she would put up a fight. She may have wanted to die at times. There were times when she didn't want to live in this cold cruel hell for even one more day. Preferring instead, to let the dark, sweet whisperings of death take her. But she would die on _her_ terms. Not these animals. She was not about to lie down and disappear.

The women had started first.

"Who do you think you are, you little bitch? 'Good morning!' to the likes of Javert?" They clawed and scratched and bit. But she had fought back harder. When she had pushed back and kicked at least seven women to the ground, the first of the men had stepped in. He landed a fist to her jaw and she was sent sprawling to the ground. He snatched a handful of hair and yanked her harshly to her feet. She cried out in pain as he murmured in her ear

"I bet you're his little whore aren't ya, you slut." He kicked her in the stomach and she fell to her knees. She felt sick, she felt scared, but mostly she felt angry. Fury welled up inside her like a storm. As he gloated and jeered, she seized his groin, twisted and pulled. He fell to the ground, howling and screaming in a pool of his own blood, as she got to her feet.

It was then they began beating her with metal poles and whipping blades across her skin. They knew what they were doing, applying enough pressure to draw blood, but not enough to kill. Not yet.

She had dragged herself to her feet for the fifth time. She wiped the blood from either her nose or her mouth, perhaps both, with the back of her hand. All she could think about were the faces of hate and loathing. A man advanced towards her and she clawed his throat. As he stumbled back, choking and gurgling, a heavyset woman tried to slash her with a knife. By the grace of the Gods Nicolette dodged the blade and thrust it into another man. Suddenly a large man was gripping her by the throat and hoisting her off the floor. She was slammed against her own cell bars. Her feet kicked desperately, and feebly, as the air was forced out of her lungs. Her throat burned and tears rolled down her cheeks. She was going to die in this Hell. A prickling blackness formed at the edges of her vision. She coughed and gasped for breathe but the brute tightened his clasp even more.

"Put down my prisoner."


	5. Heaven

**Sorry this took so long, i was working late and long, but couldn't go to bed without posting ;) Pretty please with a Javert on top Review! I need to know how i'm doing! Do you like the character developments? What could i do to improve? Thank you :)**

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"Put down my prisoner." The voice was low and dangerous. An immediate hush fell over the prisoners.

"But Inspector, I was just beginning to have my fun." The man grinned maliciously and began to crush her throat. She emitted a strangled yelp. But suddenly the grin slipped from his face. His eyes went wide and his jaw went slack. She looked down, a large pool of red liquid spilled out of his chest and gushed down his shirt.

It is unknown which body hit the prison floor first. But one of them lay unconscious and whilst the other lay dead. Grimly, Javert turned to face the mob of law breakers.

"Seems like you are outnumbered, Javert." One taunted, licking his lips and running his finger down the blade of his dirty knife.

"We'll kill you, and then we'll do away with your little girlfriend." A malevolent voice snarled. Calmly the Inspector bent over and pulled his police-issued-knife out of the dead mans back. He glanced down and saw that the girl was still breathing. Just.

"Naaaaah." A woman hissed to his right. She drew closer to him and squinted up at him. He snarled and she withdrew hastily. "We should kill her in front of him, make him watch, and _then_ we'll finish him off!" She spat. A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd of undesirables.  
The policeman looked to his left and he looked to his right.

"Nowhere left to run Javeeert." Cooed a particularly ugly prostitute.

"Indeed." He smirked as the Parisian police force descended from either side.

He cleaned the blood off of his knife, ignored the screams, and slotted it back into its holder. There were considerably less inmates in the cells that night.

White. Everything was pure white. That is how she knew she was dead. This much white just couldn't exist in prison. This much white just couldn't exist on the streets of Paris. She coughed and then gasped in pain. Her throat stung as though she had swallowed splinters. Wildly she looked around and things began to focus. There was a small door to her left and a large window to her left that looked out over Pairs. She was in a firm bed where the sheets were crisp and white.

It dawned on her that either the after life was a lot how she imagined a hospital. Or she was actually in a hospital.

An ageing woman with greying hair and a soft face bustled into the room.  
"Ducky! You're awake!" she smiled and her brown eyes sung with kindness. Nicolette tried to speak but a harsh croak had replaced her voice.  
"Oh don't try to talk my dear, your throat is very damaged so your voice might not be right for a week or so." The woman handed her a glass of water which she accepted with some difficulty. She stared down in shock at the rolls of white bandages around her arm.  
"Your arms and stomach will be tender from the bruises and slashes. Luckily nothing was broken. Although you suffered a few cracked ribs and very bruised knuckles". Nicolette watched her through thoughtful eyes.  
"You're a fighter alright."  
"Are you an angel?" She was horrified at how hoarse and scratchy her voice sounded. The waoman in white paused, smiled, and threw her hands up in the air.  
"Good Lordy no ducky. I'm a nurse, you are in hospital; have been for a few days. And will be for a couple more, just to keep an eye on you." She reached over and placed a cool hand on her patients forehead. She smelled of soap and powder.  
"Thank you" Nicolette rasped.  
"You have someone to see you my lovey." The girl from the street frowned in confusion. There was no one in the world who would know she was here, and nobody would come to see her anyway. She glanced to the doorway and met with Emerald Green.

The nurse bustled over to the small doorway and glared up at the Inspector.

"You can talk to her, but not too much! She cannot be stressed or strained." He towered over her but as she lectured him he seemed to shrink. He looked like a scolded young boy. He nodded his understanding and she wandered off absentmindedly. As soon as her back was turned he stood up tall and fixed the scowl on his face. Nicolette smiled to herself and sipped her water, enjoying how the coolness felt, slipping down her wounded throat. Inspector Javert walked into the room with a commanding air. He stood at the bottom of her white bed and studied his previous inmate intently.


	6. Questions and Answers

**Hey ho :) Next chapter is up! I figured we should get to know a bit more about Mademoiselle Nicolette, R&R!**

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The nurses had tenderly washed her hair and skin. He could tell now that she was pale with rosey cheeks. She had wavy, caramel coloured hair that looked soft to touch. Her nose had dried blood on it, and her lips had been cut. She had a violent gash covering her forehead and her throat was an angry purple. He could even see the finger marks on her delicate neck. Her arms and torso were covered in white bandages and her hands had been bound. She looked tired, uncertain, and scared. But her blue eyes still met his with a friendly cheerfulness.

"Come to arrest me again Inspector?" Javert said nothing and lowered him self into the seat next to her bed.  
"No." He said eventually. His voice rumbled around the small room and sent involuntary shivers down her spine. "No one will be arresting you, unless you break the law of course." She arched her eyebrow and only had the slightest hint of a smirk when she replied.  
"So you are actually going to wait until I commit a crime this time?" The very corners of his lips twitched upwards for the briefest of seconds but, after he composed himself, he settled with glaring at her. She grinned and sipped her water.

"I have some mandatory questions to ask you, is that alright?" She nodded and he produced a pencil and a small notepad.  
"What is your name?"  
"Nicolette Alliott." Her voice grated.  
"What is your age?"  
"Did no one ever tell you that was rude Monsieur?" His eyes flashed when he glanced at her.  
"That's Inspector to you, and answer the question." He growled. She rolled her eyes.  
"Nineteen."  
"Are you married?" He asked. She shook her head.  
"Do you have a permanent address or residence?" Again she shook her head. He sighed impatiently.  
"Who is your next of kin?" He looked up and noticed a change. She wasn't looking at him anymore, but out of the window. Sadness had crept into her expression, in her eyes he saw tint of tragedy, like she had experienced a lifetime of pain. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Have you ever been arrested before?" He said quietly. She nodded. Fury filled his expression and his eyebrows pulled together, his lips drew into a snarl. She winked and then shook her head.  
"This is not a some silly game Mademoiselle Alliott!" He seethed.  
"And to think, just a short while ago you were addressing me as rat." She shot back. He stood in his rage, his chair scraping back, as he loomed over her. She prepared for his onslaught and stared at him defiantly.

"I do hope you are not about to shout at my patient in my hospital." A short voice clipped from the doorway. The colour flooded to Javert's face and Nicolette pressed her lips together to top from laughing. He sat down again and glowered at her viciously.

"Where will you go after you have been released from hospital?" he ground out through gritted teeth.  
"Your guess is as good as mine Inspector." Her scraping voice was low.  
"How do you pay for food?" His eyes were narrowed to slits as he eyed her suspiciously.  
"I trade and barter Inspector." Her eyelids felt heavy and she sighed, leaning back on the pillows.  
"So you are a homeless, jobless orphan, with nothing to live for." He sneered.  
"Not an orphan" She muttered, closing her eyes. "And I have plenty to live for."  
"But you said" he hissed.  
"I know what I said, they abandoned me, they did not die." She mumbled as she fell into sleep.

The inspector watched her eyelids flutter shut and sighed heavily. He took the cup of water as it was slipping from her grasp, placed it by her bedside, and left.


	7. Eaves dropping

**I am aware that i have been neglecting this for a few days. To quote the great Gandalf "I was...delayed." But no more! I shall (hopefully) be uploading 3 chapters to make up for the 3 lost days without them. Sorry :(, R&R! :)**

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The next day Javert was walking back through the doors to the hospital. He knew the way with his eyes shut by now. He nodded at some of the nurses but spoke to no one. He finally drew close to her door and paused to compose himself. He straightened his jacket and brushed himself down. He would _not_ allow himself to be rattled and wound up by this young woman. He was the authority. He was the law. And he would remain calm.  
"The Inspector will be here shortly ducky." He heard through the closed door. He recognised the voice of the nurse who was taking care of Nicolette.  
"Really?" He heard the patient rasp. "That's good." She said eagerly. He frowned momentarily. He knew nobody liked him. No one ever looked forwards to seeing him. No one invited him round for dinner, or out for a drink, or to their parties. He had made the choice long ago between having friends and being exceptional at his job. Hence he was the "Great Inspector" of Paris, and the most hated man he knew. He was proud of that fact. If he was hated, he was doing his job right, he was content.  
"You can wind him up very easily." The nurse said, as more of an observation than an accusation. The Inspector snorted and sneered. _That's an understatement,_ he thought to himself.  
"Its nice to have someone to argue with, and he's a very good person to argue with." Her voice scraped. He felt an odd trickle of guilt for eavesdropping, but then again, he was an Inspector. Dropping eaves was practically in his job description.

"That man is not what I would call a very good person, surely you must know what the Inspector thinks of people like you." Javert felt his face burn, but his mind could offer no counter argument to defend himself. Luckily he did not have to.  
"I am well aware of exactly what the Inspector think of scum like me, but he _is_ a good man, who saved my life and so; if you please, refrain from talking about him in that offensive manner." The Inspector reeled. His mouth dropped open and he had to take a step backwards. The foolish girl was actually _defending_ him. He gave himself a shake, stood tall and fixed his collar. He stepped forwards and was about to enter the room when the nurse emerged.

"Good morning Inspector." He nodded stiffly, but she did not move. He glared at her and she glared at him. He sighed impatiently.  
"Can I help you with something?" He asked irritably. The woman waited a moment or two before replying.  
"Inspector, I appreciate that you have seen an awful lot in your time, but you must appreciate that I have as well. And that girl," she pointed at the closed door. "Is _nothing_ like the usual trash you sweep out of the gutter." Javert was about to laugh at her but she silenced him with a fierce look. "Now I have not told her that you were here every day, without fail, whilst she was sleeping."  
"I had to guard my prisoner!" He flared.  
"Are you trying to have me believe that one of your subordinates could not have done so?" she snapped. The Inspector had silent fury written all over his expression, he breathed heavily and clenched his jaw tightly.  
"All I'm trying to say," The nurse sighed wearily "Is that young girl thinks she's all alone in this World. It might be nice for her to know she is not." The nurse gave a decisive nod and marched off.


	8. Surprises

Lost in her own world she did not hear the door open. She did not hear the Inspectors quiet footfalls as he entered the room. She was perched up on the windowsill, humming a tuneless song, gazing out over Paris.  
"Are you certain that the nurse would be pleased to find you out of bed?" She smiled at her reflection but did not turn around. She was thinking how different Paris looked from up here. How beautiful. Her voice croaked;

"It's beginning to feel as though I have been transferred from one prison to another, although there is a distinct lack of bars." Javert smirked. Suddenly she spun around to face him. "I have to get out of here. I have to be out there." She gestured to the city. "I want to walk the grimy streets and breathe the dirty air." He saw that she was looking better today. The cuts and bruises were still scattered over her body, but she had a fire and life in her eyes.  
"They tell me that you may leave in a few more days." He said carefully.  
"I need something to do!" She pleaded. Javert sighed heavily and resumed his place in the chair, his back to Nicolette. She remained at the window, staring out wistfully, but sneaking peeks at the Inspector.  
"What is your height?" He asked abruptly.  
"Five six, five seven" She shrugged "What's yours?" He frowned at her unexpected question but answered anyway.  
"Six four. And your weight?"  
"One hundred and twenty pounds-ish. Do you like your work?"  
"Yes. To the best of your knowledge, where were you born?"  
"The countryside, are you married? You don't wear a wedding ring but I thought maybe you take it off?" His pencil paused for a second and she watched the back of his head with interest. His hair was darker at the back than the front. With flecks of grey and it looked quite soft. She thought for a second about how it would feel under her fingertips.  
"No." he rumbled. "Where are your parents, or family members?" he barked.  
"You are all alone then, and I have no idea." She coughed. But she didn't stop. Tears sprang to her eyes and her throat became dry and parched. She clutched her damaged ribs and doubled over, choking furiously.

Javert came over silently and passed her a glass of water. It was an insignificant gesture. Meaningless. Anyone would have done this. But Nicolette had never been recipient to such spontaneous kindness. Strangers all over Paris owed her favours, which she called upon when necessary. Nevertheless, no one had ever been impulsively kind unless they were indebted to her. She gingerly took it from him between splutters and thanked him between wheezy breaths.

"They abandoned me in the countryside a long time ago." She explained quietly when she had resumed breath and ceased coughing. Her eyes were cast to the floor. Javert shifted uncomfortably before nodding and sitting down again.

"Yes." He murmured but did not ask her any more questions

For the proceeding hours, they conversed at length, and she chatted away enough for three people. He grew accustomed to her scratchy voice and could barely remember the honey sweet tones that used to greet him. He did not talk a lot about his personal affairs and neither, he noticed, did she. In fact, when it came time for him to leave he still barely knew anything about her. He rose up out of his chair and ignored the look of disappointment on his face. She only enjoyed the company of someone else. A street rat like her could never enjoy spending any amount of _time _with him. She most likely detested breathing the same air as him. As he did her.  
"I loathe her type. Scum that this city should be purged of." He told himself. "Can you read?" He asked aloud. She smiled brightly and nodded. As he turned to leave he realised, with horror, that he had actually took pleasure in being here. He was aghast. He had never classed himself as lonely before. But if he got this much enjoyment out of spending time with dirt like her, he may have to socialise a little more.  
"Goodbye Inspector, have a lovely evening." Her voice was guttural, but it was still laced with benevolence. She didn't see him smile, despite himself, before sweeping out of the room and down the corridor.


	9. Busy Fools

**This is it for today :) I wasn't sure what was going to happen and didn't intend for the hospital to become such a major setting but there you go! Also i didn't want to go into too much detail about how the attack actually happened but didn't want to brush over it either? Anyways R&R if you like, R&R if you don't X)**

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She was sleeping peacefully when he called the next morning. And quite understandably, the sun was barley up. But Javert was up before the sun, as he was every day, despite not sleeping himself until well after midnight. He walked in silently and left the books by her bedside where she would see them. Why did he do it? Not even God knew why. Javert told himself that it was so he didn't have to listen to her whine about being bored. Before he could leave he found himself studying her sleeping form. Just for a moment. She was irritating, rude, and infuriatingly cheery. Despite having little reason to be. The Inspector was accustomed to the depressed abhorrence from the rats of the street.

But if he was completely honest with himself, although he hated to do so, he didn't think of her as a rat. Not that he would ever let her know that. She may have lived in sickening poverty. She may have no place to call home and live on the street. But she was not dirt. She was not scum. She was not like anyone he had ever met.

Her hair had been prettily braided to one side, so intricately and delicately, he almost wanted to reach out and feel it. Her hair had been mussed in the night, loose strands hung about her face, the imperfection complimenting her somehow. She was still and silent in her slumber with the only indication of life being the slight rise and fall of her chest. Inspector Javert looked one last time at his sleeping prisoner and left for work.

Javert was extremely busy at the police station. There was sickening amount of paperwork to be filled out and filed away. Each inmate's death had to be documented with as much precision and detail as possible. The entire incident had to be written down in his neat scrawl and verified. Nicolette's release papers had to be signed off, confirmed, reaffirmed and put with the other release files. Of which there were few and far in-between. On top of that, the Inspector had to expose the traitor from within his own ranks. Someone had to have let out the prisoners. Unlocked each cell and let out each individual prisoner. And give the animals access to Nicolette. Javert was hungry for the conspirators blood by the time he was through with the formalities. He quickly uncovered that it had been a part timer with no aspirations and little concern for the police force anyway. He had been easily bribed by the prisoners and had the audacity to look vaguely disinterested when Javert had come.

He was whimpering and trembling when the Inspector had finished.  
"You see those bars." Javert had hissed malevolently. The boy had nodded fearfully. "You will be on the other side of them for the rest of your pitiful, pathetic, and contemptible life." The young man had urinated and began to sob. Javert had stalked away and left his subordinates to arrest the traitor.

"The bribe had not even been worth while." He fumed that evening at her bedside. "I cannot conceive his motive." Javert appeared livid.  
"Who said he needed a motive?" She said quietly, staring at him fixedly. "I'm just another rat in the dungeon." Her bandages had been removed partially and he could see the red lines and mutilations. He focused on these now, for he could not look her in the eye, as he could offer no contradiction.  
"What are your dreams Inspector?" she said, gazing out of the window at the growing dusk. He was caught off guard by her question and stared at her open-mouthed for a second. When he failed to reply her blue eyes shifted to his green ones. She almost felt breathless at the intensity of them.  
"You do have dreams don't you?" His lips warped into his notorious sneer.  
"I did not use my valuable time to come here and waste it on idle chitchat Mademoiselle Alliott. I came to inform you that you have been officially authorised to be released from the country's incarceration. We shall not meet again." He stiffly bowed and left the room in a whirlwind of irritation. Nicolette stared dumbly at the slammed door.

"You had to antagonise him didn't you?" She scolded herself. "You always annoy him, why would he even want to talk to you? He's right to detest you. And now you'll never see him again. You didn't even thank him for the books!" She flopped back heavily onto her pillow and crossed her arms.

Javert strode through the hospital, glaring at anyone who dared to cross his path.

"Foolish girl." He snarled.  
"Foolish man." The nurse tsked as he stalked away.


	10. Walking in the moonlight

Winter was drawing closer. The crisp mornings were stretching into the day and the evening were closing in. Frost was never far away. Inspector Javert's life had more or less returned to normal. Much to his delight.

His pen was furiously scribbling a stack of paperwork when there was a slow and irritating knock at the door.  
"Enter!" he barked. The old wooden door creaked open and an undeniably handsome young policeman walked in. Officer Claude was the closest thing to a friend that Javert had. He was what the Inspector classed as tolerable.

"Javert sweetheart, did you miss me?" He was young and tall; though not as tall as Javert. He had unruly blonde hair that flopped in his hazelnut eyes. And a permanent grin.

"What do you want Claude?" Javert arched an eyebrow and stilled his pen.

"Can a friend not come visiting for a chat and a refreshing beverage?" Claude stared at him with the look of pure innocence . Javert sighed and set his pen down with a definite clunk.  
"No." The Inspector said flatly. Claude smirked and dropped his head in defeat.  
"Alright, alright. The thing is, I'm in love." Javert made a strangled noise half way between a groan and a growl.  
"You were in love with the last four or is it five?"  
"This time is different!" Claude protested, his eyebrows pulling together.  
"It always is." Javert muttered darkly.  
"Well I'm going to propose tonight-" He was cut off momentarily when the Inspector head butted his pristine desk in frustration.  
"You are an idiot!" He cried. Claude carried on as though he had never spoken.  
"But the thing is, the big bad Commissioner has put me on night patrol." Javert knew it was coming. It lay in Claude's slight pout and his hopeful expression. "Is there anyway you cover my shift?" Claude grinned. A hundred excuses flashed through the Inspectors mind but he knew that Claude would see through them. And he would end up talking Javert into it anyway.  
"Fine. I loathe myself and I loathe you." Javert snarled. He picked up his pen and resumed scribbling. Claude cried out and clapped his hands together with joy.  
"You shall be the best man! A golden statue shall be erected in your honour you superb man!" he waltzed out of the Inspector's office, singing his praises. Javert shook his head.  
"That'll be the day." He muttered.

Javert's heavy footsteps were the only comfort for him in the night. That and the moon. She was full and white, filling the darkness with her light; he actually enjoyed walking in moonlight. He glared in the dark alleyways and sneered at the night. It was the coldest night in his long memory. He was wearing his heavy uniform, his thick coat and his winter boots. Along with leather gloves and a warm scarf. And he was _still_ cold. The number of dead beggars was rising. He found them frozen on the streets. His breathes billowed a cloud of smoke into the air. There would be many more tomorrow morning. His mind flitted to Nicolette for a moment. He hadn't seen her since that day at the hospital. He found himself oddly concerned for her but dismissed the notion immediately.

It had been a long day and to his relief the stroke of eleven was drawing near. He had just a short way to patrol and then he could sign out at the station and make his way home. The house would be warm and he sit down. He could just picture the glass of bourbon.

He took note of a carriage approaching at some speed being pulled by two enormous horses. They were at least seventeen hands high. They were black and their breaths exploded in fiery plumes. He carried on with little interest. Suddenly he heard a woman scream with fear and horror. It chilled him inside and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. He knew something very bad was about to happen.

"No!"


	11. Unexpected meetings

**Thank you for R&R and just generally being awesome - this is so much fun! And as suggested he is not saving her again ;) **

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He whipped around in time to see a young boy, no more than three, dart out into the path of the carriage. His mother had been the one who screamed, she was on her knees with her hands pressed to her mouth as the carriage lurched violently and tipped. It crashed to the ground and the carriages smashed into thousands of pieces.

Javert felt his mouth go dry and his chest contract. Her ran across to the overturned carriage. The horses were stamping and champing. The woman was sobbing in a pile at the sound of the road. He knew the child had been crushed. He gritted his teeth together and braced himself to walk around the carriage, stepping over the scattered piles of wood.

He could not believe his eyes. A young woman was holding the child in her arms and using her body as a shield, kneeling just inches away from the wreckage. She held the little boy out in front of her.  
"Are you alright?" He heard her ask as she wiped away the tears streaming down his baby cheeks. He nodded before racing into the open embrace of his rejoicing mother.  
"Thank you, thank you, oh thank you so much!" she cried, holding her child to her bosom and then bundling him into a nearby house.

"That was a commendable thing to do." Javert said gruffly, approaching the young woman. She got to her feet and brushed down her scruffy dress.  
"Why thank you Inspector, I'm glad you approve." She turned her ocean-blue eyes on him and he nearly fell down in shock.  
"You?" He yelled in disbelief.  
"Me." Nicolette replied. Her voice had returned to normal. As had her appearance.  
"You're bleeding." A few shards of splinter had grazed her face. She shrugged without taking her eyes off his face.  
"Could be much worse."

Javert had to conduct his police business and sorted out the carriage driver. He arranged for the horses to be kept in a nearby stable and the shattered carcass of the carriage was dragged off to the side of the street. The debris could stay there for all he cared. Nicolette stood in the shadows watching him the entire time. And he was well aware of her. He told the carriage diver to file an official report on the morning and bid him a goodnight.  
"Good night Inspector." He muttered as he hurried away in the night.

"Do you have nothing better to do?" He growled, setting off towards the police station, nearly an hour later.  
"No." she said simply as she resumed step beside him. He saw that she was barefoot and had no shawl.  
"Do you have not shoes or coat?" He demanded.  
"I did" She admitted. "But I gave them to someone who needed them more." Javert was silent in shock; he had been right, she was insane. He stole a glance at her sideways. She was all dirty again but her hair was still braided.

"You are still bleeding!" He snarled. He grabbed her cold arm and spun her towards him forcefully. He tipped her face towards the streetlamp and frowned down at her, ignoring her shivering as he examined the cuts. She wrenched herself out of his grip.  
"I'm fine." She snapped as she marched onwards. Javert hissed and soon caught up with the infuriating girl.  
"It's a cold night." He said, watching her. She looked about, as though it had just occurred to her, and nodded.  
"The coldest it has been this year." He pressed. She shrugged her thin shoulders.  
"You could die." He said bluntly. She sighed and glanced at the heavens.  
"It is a possibility. Comes with the lifestyle I'm afraid."  
"More like a probability." He sneered. "Do you not have _anywhere_ to go?" She glared at him as they crossed the street.  
"You know I don't!"


	12. Invitations

**Longest chapter yet! :) R&R**

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For a while they stormed on together, side by side, in silence. His strides were long whilst his footfalls were heavy. She was stubbornly determined to keep up with him but her footsteps were silent and cautious. He secretly admired that, despite having no shoes, she did not falter once.

"This is my stop." She said suddenly whilst coming to a slow halt. He frowned and peered into the park. It was pitch black, the shadows of the trees loomed menacingly over them, and the paths disappeared behind dark corners.  
"It's dangerous in there for a lone woman." She smiled bitterly and looked towards the black space.  
"It's dangerous anywhere for a lone woman." He sighed in irritation and pinched the bridge of his nose. She had to be difficult about everything. Always correcting him and answering back. So condescending at times. When he opened his eyes, her soft silhouette was barely visible in the moonlight she was already vanishing into the gloom of the park.  
"Wait." He growled. He could not believe he was doing this. His better judgement screamed no. His police training told him not to. His own distrustful heart was suspicious. But something inside was more powerful than all of these. They shushed the "No's". She stopped with her back to him.  
"Monsieur Javert?" She could not mask the curiosity in her voice.  
"That's Inspector." He corrected her. "But I can offer you warmth and shelter for the night." He nearly sneered at himself. Her eyes widened into blue circles and she spun on her bare heel to face him.  
"What?"  
"You may stay as my guest for the night." He glared at her, his eyes flashing in the moonlight, she could see the green from where she was standing.  
"Are you sure that is wise?" She arched an eyebrow and stepped toward him. "I could steal from, or murder, you in the night." Javert tried, and failed, to stifle a smirk. He did not believe her capable of such things.  
"Is is so hard for you to accept aid? Call me a fool for attempting to do the decent thing." He went to walk on, away from the park, away from her.  
"But you hate me!" She exclaimed. Confusion was written all over her pretty face. In her expression he saw all the things she tried to hide; loneliness, vulnerability, and an insecurity.

"Regardless of how I feel about you," He snapped "If you die pointlessly in the cold, it means more paperwork for me in the morning." He watched as her mask went back up. She narrowed her eyes and approached him.  
"So you are only acting so out of character to save yourself the paperwork?" She stared at his stern face, searching for any hint of deception. It suddenly occurred to him that he was not the only one who had trust issues. He nodded stiffly. The frown disappeared, her eyes widened, and a smile blessed her face.  
"Thank you." She whispered. He bristled in an instant.  
"I am not doing this for you, do not mistake this for kindness, or charity!" He seethed.

"Is it so hard for _you_ to accept gratitude and thanks?" Nicolette smirked. His eyes thinned to slits and strode off in the direction of the police station, leaving her standing at the edge of the park.  
"Are you coming, or do you wish to stand there all night?" he barked over his shoulder. She broke into a grin and ran after him.

"Paris is beautiful, do you not think?" Her skirt swished as she danced along beside him. He looked down at her dubiously. "Well, obviously not where _I'm _from, but around where you live." The Inspector made a nose that was neither affirming nor disagreeing. He led her to a large house and unlocked the heavy door.  
"After you." He muttered. This was the first time anyone except his housekeeper had stepped foot inside his house. He was suddenly unexplainably nervous about what she thought.

The house was like Javert; nig, steady, intimidating. And like Javert, she found she was oddly fascinated by it. She walked into the front hall which had heavy wooden frames and made her feel small. A boot rack and a hat stand stood to her left, an over flowing bookshelf to her right, and a staircase directly in front of her.

"I have your books." She murmured. He looked down at her in doubt. "Obviously not on my person," She explained. "But in a safe place." He rolled his eyes and strolled confidently into the next room. She followed him gradually, her mouth open, spinning in slow circles. He had more than she could imagine in her wildest dreams. She gaped at his home, her sapphire eyes flitting in every direction, drinking in every detail.  
"Towels." He said gruffly, thrusting white material towards her. She looked at them in awe and took them from him shyly. He watched her stroke the soft fabric. "I'll have my housekeeper draw you a bath." Her eyes lifted to his face.

"How are you not singing and dancing for joy all of the time?" She asked incredulously. He frowned down at her.  
"I don't quite follow." His gravelly, deep voice rumbled through the room.  
"Look at what you have!" She exclaimed. "What else could you possibly want." He considered all he had for a moment. The people in his circle called him a minimalist who lived without pleasures. Here she thought him equal to a king. The Inspectors eyes gleamed as they bore into hers.  
"Good evening Mademoiselle Alliott. I shall be in the study if you should need me." She curtseyed low and smiled.  
"Good evening Inspector." He turned away from her and left for his study, but as he walked through the doorway he caught her last two words. They were quiet, almost whispered;  
"Thank you." He turned to reprimand her but she had already disappeared.


	13. Ungodly hours

**Okay so i _loathe_ the ending to this chapter. Absolutely detest it, i know it sucks. BUT i plan to rework it at a later date :) R&R**

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He told himself to go to bed ages ago. The hour was late. His eyes had glazed over and his body felt too stiff to move. His thoughts were dark and deep. But still he did not go. He was reclined in his armchair, in front of the fire, cradling a dram of whiskey. His long legs were stretched out in front of him and he was gazing into the flames. The smouldering wood smelled like home, the whiskey on his lips burned a fire in his stomach, and his mind was a whirlwind of thought. He remained like that for longer than he intended. Occasionally sipping his glass. Occasionally topping it up. When the ancient clock above the mantle chimed thrice, he gave in and surrendered. He drained his glass in one, smooth motion, got to his feet and withdrew to his room. He walked up the wide stair case, his feet treading softly on the red carpet, his hand gliding over the wood banister. He walked silently along the narrow corridor when he stopped outside the guest room. The room where Nicolette was. He didn't know what made him step inside; only that he did.

Pushing open the door he crept into the room like a thief in the night. He felt as though he was intruding. He knew it was wrong. But he couldn't have stopped himself even if he had tried. A wave of soap and vanilla attacked his senses. It was a smell he found he liked very much. A smaller fire was crackling in the corner and illuminating the room with a soft orange glow. He studied her sleeping form as he had done in the hospital, but he knew it was different. This was _his _house, she was in _his_ guest room, sleeping in _his_ bed. And he was in her bedroom.

She was lying on her front, her hair golden in the firelight, splayed out over the pillow. Her arms folded underneath her head. She was as still as though deaths chilled fingers had claimed her. But he was sure that, should he touch her, her skin would be warm not cold. The sheets had shifted a little and her bare back was exposed. Only when his eyes were following her shoulder blade definition and tracing the beautiful curve of her spine did it occur to him that she was naked. And then Inspector Javert had an thought. Nicolette Alliot was a girl. A very attractive girl. A very attractive girl that sparked his curiosity like nobody else in Paris. A very attractive girl that sparked his curiosity like no one else in Paris, who was also naked, was in his house.

And yet still he did not leave.

Her skin looked soft and creamy gold. Pale with a hint of tan; flawless against the bed sheets. Her breath was soft and steady as she slumbered. He could hardly dare to admit it to himself , but she was certainly beautiful. He felt an unusual feeling scrape in the back of his mind. Like a creature he had beaten and broken and trapped away long ago. But it was still alive somehow. It was crawling, dragging itself out of the dark corner where he left it. It was the desire to love and be loved. The desire to be liked and cherished by someone. To protect and care for someone else. Inspector Javert was lonely you see. Not through choice. But because he had treated the World as it had treated him. And she had changed all of that.

But instead of realising this. He battered away that feelings, stomped on the thought, and pushed it back into it's corner.

Then he left her room.

Less than five minutes later he was in his room, lying in his cold bed, staring up at the ceiling. In the dark contrast to the orange glow of her room, he felt hatred for the World settle back into his heart. This is where he belonged. In the cold uncomfortable silence. This is what he liked. He did not need the soft crackling warmth of the fire, or to hear a woman's soft sighs beside him, or feel her warmth. That is not what Inspector Javert was. He was the law. And yet he could not help but think about her lying not ten metres away. Naked and beautiful. He thought about the softness of her skin. How perfectly curved her body seemed to be. Everything from her neck to her shoulder, from her forehead to her nose, from her hips to her waist. Her almost cobalt blue eyes and her honey smooth voice. How it would sound whispering to him in the dark or calling out his name. He cursed under his breath when he felt himself stiffen. He scolded himself for thinking of street scum like that. But as he released himself he couldn't help but close his eyes and picture her hands touching him, and imagining her lips kissing his. Even as he fell asleep, exhausted and confused, he couldn't shake her from his thoughts.

Unknown to him she was indeed lying under ten metres away . Staring into the flames. Awoken by a strange feeling, perhaps it was a nightmare, but she was sure someone had came into the room. She thought about Javert. How to repay him for his kindness. How to convince him that she was not worthless. But most of all; how his arms could warm her more than any fire.

And so, at that ungodly hour, two strangers lay awake under the same roof. Each dreaming of the other. Neither admitting it to themselves. Neither realising what fate had in store.


	14. Judgements

**Chapter 14 is UP, thank you to everyone who is reading my story and supporting me :) R&R**

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He felt the sunlight upon his face before he had opened his eyes. He felt it warmth caress his skin. Like natures morning kiss. He felt content just to lie there for a moment. He had a rare day off because he did a double shift. He had nothing to do. And he was filled with this inexplicable happiness. Which he found disconcerting. Then he remembered the girl. He sat up in bed and wondered what to do with her.

Although he didn't know it, Inspector Javert _was _ handsome, sans the sneer. Especially in the morning. His sleepy eyes had non of their harshness. His neatly combed hair was messed. His face still held the contented nature of sleep.

Nicolette on the other hand, did not wake up looking perfect, as most of the "ladies" would have had society believe. She was never perfect. And that was okay with her. She had stared in the looking glass a long while the night before, never having seen one before. Her hair was unruly. Her skin was not white as was desirable. It was more creamy tan. She had an upturned nose and eyes that were squint. She ran a finger over her lips that, she decided, were too thin. She didn't like the way she looked. But she was content. She was her, she could not change, and that was that. But in the morning she awoke with hair matted and mussed. Her eyes were heavy with sleep. Her skin was warm and soft from her bath. She stroked the soft bed and snuggled into the pillows. She really must repay Javert for this. But how?

He heard a little knock on his door that was definitely _not_ his housekeeper. She usually gave three sharp raps before entering anyway. She was a short woman with a pinched face. He was fond of her and could not fathom life without her.

"It opens" his deep voice called sleepily. Nicolette popped her head round the door.  
"Speak of the devil and thou shalt appear." He muttered to himself. He watched her eyes flit around the entire room before finally resting on his face. Her mouth upturned into a smile,  
"Good morning Inspector!" She sang chirpily. She walked cautiously into the room, her bare feet making no sound on the floor, balancing a large silver tray.

"I didn't know what you would like." She explained. She came over to the bed and sat the tray down next to him. He inhaled the smell of vanilla and almost smiled. Laden upon the tray was tea, coffee, juice, croissants, jam, toast and heaven knows what else.

"Where did you get this?" He growled, but his eyes drank the breakfast greedily.  
"Lots of people at the market owe me favours." She crossed her arms and huffed. "I didn't steal it if that's what you were implying."The Inspector expertly poured some tea. He marvelled at the fire in her eyes and the way her hair fell about her shoulders.

"Would you care for some?" He asked. In a tone that suggested he did not care for her response. Her lips lifted at how stubborn he was. But she noticed his eyes, the colour of jaded leaves, watching her surreptitiously. She shook her head gently.  
"Thank you, but I have already had my breakfast. I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you so very much for your kindness. But I wasn't sure how. I can never repay you." She gabbled on as Javert spread butter meticulously over his toast. He enjoyed the scraping crunch. His gaze flicked back to the woman in front of him. Her rosy apple cheeks and button nose were enticing. Her winter blue iris's found his.  
"If you ever need me, just ask around." A pretty blush spread across her cheeks, highlighting freckles he had not noticed before.  
"You're welcome." He said gruffly. She curtseyed and backed out of the room.

Downstairs she pulled the heavy door open and come face to face with a handsome young gentleman.  
"Oh hello, good morning!" she said cheerily. Officer Claude frowned in shock.  
"Good morning." He said slowly, not forgetting his manners, and removing his hat. "I'm here to see Inspector Javert, is he here?" He glanced over this girl curiously. He found her familiar but could not, for the life of him, place her.  
"Why of course, Inspector Javert is upstairs in his bedroom where I left him." She had a playful glint in her eye as the young mans hazel ones widened in shock.  
"Good day!" she almost laughed. Nicolette curtseyed again;  
"This is becoming a habit" She thought to herself, and skipped down the path. Her stared after her in shock, his jaw dropping as he followed her bare feet; what an unusual day this was turning out to be.

"Javert!?" He called anxiously. He started up the staircase with some speed, all sorts of thoughts going through his mind. Who was she? Was she the Inspectors mistress? Was she a thief who had murdered his friend and, if so, had he just let her walk away? He was relived when he heard Javert answer a muffled reply.  
"Javert, if I am not mistaken that was-"He walked into the Inspectors bedroom and removed his hat.  
"The prisoner who should not have been, yes, I know." Javert sighed tiredly and passed a hand in front of his face. He was standing at the large windows dressed in a white shirt, braces, and black trousers. He watched her golden head until she disappeared into a crowd of peoples.  
"And what exactly was she doing _here_?" Claude asked, his handsome features not hiding his curiosity.  
"I gave her shelter for the night." Javert turned to glare at him.  
"My friend, I pass no judgements." Claude held up his hands and smiled. The inspector snorted.  
"I would." He muttered darkly under his breath.


	15. Hope

"How did your proposal go?" He asked absentmindedly, sipping from his tea. He could see sunshine in the distance, a far off green country, away from Pairs. He offered some tea to his friend but Claude declined with a sigh.  
"She said that she would love to marry me." The young man sank into a nearby chair, with the illusion of being much older than his years. The Inspector awaited the ever predictable 'but'.  
"But she also said that she was unsure as to how her husband would feel regarding the matter." Javert could not hold back his snicker. He pressed his lips together trying, and failing, to stop his laughter.  
"No wedding bells yet then?" His usually stern face was lit up, his eyes holding mirth, the frown of his brow gone. His usually happy friend had a fixed glower as he sat in the chair.  
"No, no wedding bells yet." He ground out. Javert felt a twinge of guilt at the young mans misfortune and attempted to change the subject.  
"Did you hear about the incident late last night?" Claude nodded seriously, pressing his finger tips together.  
"Yes, I called by the station as I made my way over here and read about it. Something involving a young boy and an overturned carriage, I believe. No casualties and not much damage, thankfully." Javert smiled to himself. The young mans unrequited dedication was admirable. He was a fine police officer, that is why the Inspector had put his name forwards for Commissioner. Claude deserved it more than any of the other half wits at the station. He cleared his throat roughly.  
"Yes well, Mademoiselle Alliott; the prisoner who was not meant to be, saved the young child from being crushed. She risked her own life in the doing so and pulled him from the on coming carriage."  
"So naturally you offered her your bed as a way of thank you." The smirk had returned to Claude's face and there was a roguish glint in his eye. He sat up straighter and leaned forwards eagerly waiting on the Inspectors, no doubt, explosive response. Javert glared at him and clenched his jaw tight.  
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. In my _guest_ bedroom." He turned back towards the window. The two men sat in silence, each leaving the other to their own thoughts.  
"She has no shoes." Claude said softly after a while. If Javert heard him he did not reply, instead he remained staring out of the window.

She hurried along the cold grey streets, her heart thumping madly in her chest and her mind whirring around in confusion. People became a blur as she scurried along. She had forgotten what it was like to wake up and feel _warm_. To be heavenly comfortable. To be clean. She found she could get very used to that. She smell the soap on her skin. It was still slightly pink from where his housemaid had scrubbed hard. But what had thrilled her the most was seeing the dear Inspector immediately after he had woken up. She thought he was hopelessly handsome. Hopeless in the fact that he had no idea that he was handsome at all. He was relaxed and sleepy which gave him the illusion of being human; and not the unfeeling, emotionless, machine he made himself out to be. His burly arms had flexed when he stretched and reached for the tea. She could barely tear er eyes away as the room suddenly got very warm. She felt her cheeks flush and shortness in her breath. How small she would feel in those arms. How safe. His voice murmuring in her ear. His hands on her skin. His-  
"No!" She growled out loud. She shook the feeling off at once.  
"Feeling like that about the Inspector will do you no good my girl." She muttered to herself. She sat down on the pavement and pulled a small baguette out of her pocket. She drew her knees to her chest and began breaking the bread up. She chewed it thoughtfully as she mulled it over. What had came over her? The Inspector was, well he was inspector Javert. Everyone hated him. He hated people like her. But, she admitted to herself, she _didn't_ hate him. And he sure as hell didn't _act _like her hated her. She shivered and hugged her arms around herself. It was getting colder. She would have to be careful she didn't catch a chill.

Several weeks later, even Javert was beginning to loathe street patrol, as Winter was in full swing. The homeless were perishing in their hundred every night. He made it his business to check the park daily. And whilst body after body was removed he saw no sign of her. Not hide nor dirty hair of the mysterious blonde girl. He was aware of the harsh truth of the world. She had probably frozen to death weeks ago. But the Inspector lived in something he did not usually live in. He lived in hope.


	16. Taking a breath

**So this is similar to a discussion a friend of mine and i were having today, about Winter being endless and all. I'm not sure if all of my readers will understand, but winter in the UK is pretty awful. It has a habit of lasting from October until May! Anywho, R&R, and enjoy! (Hopefully)**

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Inspector Javert and Officer Claude opened the door to Javerts warm office and breathed a sigh of relief in unison. The two men had just finished night shift. They were frozen to the bone and Claude's teeth had ceased chattering for the past hour. Javerts bones felt old and stiff as the cold settled. The younger mans face was red with cold whilst the apples of his cheeks had a blue tinge to them. He huddled further into his scarf and wrapped his arms around himself. They huddled around the fireplace and held their fingers towards the orange flames.  
"It feels as though this blasted winter is ever endless!" Javert spoke darkly. Claude lifted his eyes to his friends face and saw troubles that he had not noticed before. He closed his eyes and imagined himself warm.  
"I just want to feel the sun on my face!" He sighed. "To stroll the patrol route wearing just my shirt. To see the fruits of the summer at the market and see the smiling girls. Nobody smiles when the weather is so miserable." He complained. Javert said nothing, but he was thinking off one person who _did _smiled despite the cold. He had still not seen her. Not that he cared for the street rat, he reminded himself. Claude sighed heavily again and sank into a chair, pulling it as close to the fire as he dared. The Inspector felt the warmth thaw the chill that he was sure had been there to stay. He longed for the things Claude spoke of, although not publically, but privately. He enjoyed wandering the streets of Paris with the sunshine beating down. The grey corners of poverty were almost extinguished. The market was beautiful, with flowers and scents. Farmers had fruit and crops, whilst woman made jewellery that held colours he had never seen before. Blues that could only have been fished from the ocean, yellows that looked as though they had been plucked from a sunset, and greens that were unique to Enchanted Forests in fairytales. Yet they were laid out neatly, side by side, by stall after stall. Young Monsieur's would purchase them for their beloveds, fastening the trinkets around pretty little necks, smiling broadly at the onslaught of appreciation. Javert enjoyed the scent of summer; he enjoyed the sounds, the feel of a warm breeze.

But there was no warm breeze now. Only cold, bitter, darkness.

Suddenly a gangly looking boy rushed in, bringing with him a rush of cold air and confusion. He was gasping for breath and his eyes were wide and wild. Javert spun around and glared viciously at the intruder. He was about to bellow at the fool for his ignorant intrusion. Then the fool began to stutter.  
"Ggg-eneral Lemaque is…ddd-dead." Before rushing back out, leaving the door wide open, and the winter night's air chilling their bones once more.

Claude, with his mouth hanging open, turned his shocked stare upon Javert. He saw that the Inspectors expression matched his own. Well, not entirely, his mouth was slightly open. It was definitely not mirroring the large circular "O" that his was forming.  
"You know what that means." Claude muttered quietly. Javert closed his mouth and passed a hand over his face.  
"Revolutionaries" He groaned. Revolutionaries had been causing trouble in Paris for many months. Their malcontent and war mongering was spreading through Paris like a disease. He admired their spirit and their determination. But they had to be crushed for the sake of the law. And that was what he now had to do. He fell down next to Claude, muttering French curses under his breath, before groaning again.

The air was still. The silence was harrowing. A single sound would have been sweet relief to the tension. Javert sat with his back against the barricade staring ahead, past the terrified faces of his own men, into the city streets. Perhaps where she was out there somewhere, maybe she had found someplace warm, she could be resting next to a hearth. She might be happy. However, as he glanced around the faces of the police officers gathered there, and he felt the frost chill his skin, he knew. He knew that, if she was not already dead, she was probably miserable. Huddled in a doorway with nothing but the thin clothes on her back. Hungry. Cold. Alone.  
He wanted to find her and tell her to stay off the streets that night. It was not safe.  
"It was never safe." He reminded himself. She could go to his home and stay there until the fighting was over. But he could not do that. She was lost in the back streets of Paris, or deceased. And that thought affected Javert more than it should have. She was brightness in the gloom, the first star in the night sky, a summer's day in the middle of winter.  
He shook his head, picked up his gun and began meticulously cleaning it. What was he thinking? It must be nerves. Being this close to battle. Having gone for too long with so little sleep. His thoughts were jumbled. He glanced over to Claude. The younger man was smiling and joking with another. He had been providing light relief the entire time they had been out there. But Javert saw through the jokes. Claude was just as afraid as the rest. Nevertheless, he was masking it with his smile. Why? Because the men needed him to. Claude looked at Javert and gave him thumbs up. Javert nodded and resumed cleaning his gun. It would not be long now. Claude shuffled over to the Inspector and watched him for a moment.  
"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" He murmured. Javert ignored him.  
"Are you ready for this?" He asked instead. Claude snorted and grinned.  
"What could these school boys possibly do?"  
"Humph."

The barricades were at a standstill. Still. Claude had stopped joking around and simply looked bored. Javert looked grim as ever. His head was tipped backwards, staring up into the velvet black, counting the stars.

Suddenly they heard a shot. It echoed loudly into the night. Javert had been wrong, that was not a sound that relieved the tension, not at all. Both sides took a nervous breath. In. Out. This was it.

It had begun.


	17. Escape

**Please let me know what you think :)**

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Gunfire was all around them. The bang. The whistle. The screams that followed. The night was filled with it. The cry's were terrifying. Sparks of light from gun and pistols, fire and shadow's. Blood had already began to trickle into gutters. Officers were barking orders amongst the commotion. The younger policemen were whimpering. The older ones were grim faced and determined. The revolutionaries were panicked, risky, and dangerous. Cannons were sounded. Their booming explosions filling both sides with fear and terror at their destruction.  
"Javert!" Claude shouted as he loaded his gun. His back was against the police barricade. He had a smudge of gunpowder across his brow and some blood on his cheek. He was dirty and sooty, but he looked elated. His grin was lopsided and his unruly hair was auburn in the firelight. Javert looked over and arched an eyebrow in question.  
"I'm in love again!" His handsome young face was grinning from ear to ear. Javert clapped a large hand on his shoulder.  
"My friend, I believe you"

The gunfire had stopped. But silence did not settle over the streets of Paris. The groans and wails of dying men echoed. Senior officers told their remaining men what to do. Many stumbled around, shell shocked at the sights they had witnessed, grateful to have clear direction. Javert was not among them men. His green eyes were narrowed as he looked around. It had been bloody slaughter and he felt sick at the merciless butchery. On both sides. He had seen boys, _boys_, of no more than twelve; shoot and kill his fellow men. And likewise, he had watched the man who occupied the office next door to his, shoot and kill the little street boy. He was disgusted that people could do that to each other. But he had survived, just. A bullet had grazed his arm, he had cuts on his face, and blood on his hands. But what alarming him the most was that he could not see Claude. He could not hear his laugh or his voice, he could not see his smile or his wild mane, he did not know if his friend was alright. He scoured the collection of soldiers and police mulling around, looking for anything that could be Claude. Nothing. He could not see him anywhere. He asked several of the living if they had seen him. None had. They all shook their heads in pity, clapping him on the arm, muttering their sympathies. Everyone knew. They knew Claude was his only companion. The only one who could endure his bad moods, his grim disposition, the only one who could endure him.

It had been five years earlier when a lanky boy had wandered into Javert's office. Had told him in a very nonchalant manner that he was to be Javert's secondary, by order of the Commissioner. Javert, of course, had quickly exploded in fury. He had marched to the Commissioner's office, demanded an explanation, and instructed to teach Claude all he knew. Javert resigned to his fate and stormed back to his sanctuary. For the first few weeks, he did not speak to Claude, leaving him only the paperwork to do. But Claude had somehow sawed a hold in Javert's barricade and wormed his way in. Although Javert rarely smiled or congratulated him, he did talk to Claude, and taught him things vital for his job. Javert began to find him pleasant and even deemed to have a drink with him. And, eventually, began to regard Claude as a friend.

And now, standing in the street surrounded by the entire Parisian police force and a small section of the army, he had never felt so alone. He cursed Claude for teaching _him_. For showing him companionship and friendliness. He glanced towards the heaped corpses of the deceased. All sons, husbands, fathers, brothers, friends. All dead. He rested his head in his hand and closed his eyes. Willing himself away. Wishing it was a nightmare. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not drown out the sound of the other people, he could not ignore the copper scent of blood. His only friend had been murdered. For what? The 'revolution' had failed. Both sides had suffered heavy losses. Neither could count themselves victorious. These people had lives ahead of them. Claude had been in love. He was up for Commissioner. He brought light into this dark world. Javert felt anger and regret explode inside of him. Why had he, Javert, not died and Claude been spared? Javert brought happiness to no one. He brought fear and hate. He caused no good, he spread no light, he was a cold bastard. Claude was dead. Nicolette was dead. And the wicked people of this world lived. The evil sinners still roamed this earth.

"Where is the justice?" He murmured. Suddenly he felt very overwhelmed. He felt claustrophobic . He couldn't breathe with all of these people around. The air was close, soaked with death and blood. He stumbled away, ignoring the calls from his colleagues, and staggered through the streets of Paris. He lurched blindly in the darkness, not knowing or caring where he was going. His heavy footsteps led his past the familiar places. They led his downtown, past the slums, past the homeless people. His feet guided him to the bridge over the river Seine where, at last, they stopped. Suddenly it all became all too clear to Javert. They no longer existed in this cold cruel world. It made sense to follow them. Or, at the very least, end this misery. The Inspector was drunk on his depression. He failed to see light or decency anywhere. Everywhere he looked he could see death, starvation, deprivation and desolation. Even when he cast his head back to gaze at the stars they offered him no comfort. If they were light and happiness, they were so far away, so out of reach. Their twinkling was almost mocking his unhappiness. Laughing at him and his pathetic little life. So sad. So alone.

He didn't knowingly climb ontop of the parapet. But suddenly he was looking directly down into the angry swirling water. The raging river was nothing in comparison to Javerts rage. The deafening rush was all that filled his head. The crushing force of the water would be a glorious escape he told himself. He was desperate, and broken.

He took a shaky breath and closed his emerald eyes for the last time.  
And he took a step.  
He felt the air rushing past him.  
The ground slipped away and he was falling.

.

.

He had escaped.


	18. Dreams and Desires

**You didn't think that was it did you? ;) Much more to come, and this chapter has some M rated material - i am new to this sort of thing so if you have any suggestions or pointers please let me know. Also, i am thinking of combining the smaller chapters to make them longer? Thank you for reading anyways :) R&R 3**

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She was upon a cold rooftop, huddled on a large window sill, staring out over Paris when the fighingt began. She loved the World from up here. She could escape the gutter and the filth. She could forget her miserable life. She could see Paris for its beauty and the far off green land in the distance. She was closer to the stars up here, she felt as though she could even touch the moon, and sail away into the night. But even up here she could not escape the screams of dying men. The explosions of canons and the whistle of guns. A fire had started and the fierce orange glow rose up out of the darkness. The ugly smoke billowing into the sky, ruining the view. Nicolette closed her eyes and felt tears slip down her cheeks in pre-mourning for all the lives to be lost. Massacre. Pure bloody massacre. She hoped that Javert would be alright. And his handsome young friend. They were decent human beings who didn't deserve to die fighting in the street. Nobody did really. To distract herself from the fighting, she closed her eyes and thought of her dream. It had came to her over a week ago but she clung to it as though it were the fabric of life. Her surprising fantasy had caught her off guard and shocked her. She had blushed at first, but her mind kept returning to the images her conscience had painted. It had been so real, she wanted to believe it was.

It had been sunny, and warm. The sun was beating down on her and a smile, that was usually forced, slipped naturally onto her face. She was clean, and fresh, and happy. She was lying in a field, her bare toes curling around the grass. And he was their beside her. He was smiling, his pure green eyes twinkled down at her. He kissed her then. Lightly on the lips. She cradled the back of his head as he smiled against her lips. He gently stroked her cheek with his finger and tucked her hair behind her ear. He kissed the tip of her nose.  
"You smell like sunshine." He murmured. She laughed and smiled at him. He kissed her neck and her heart rate sped up. His tongue swirled over her tender skin making her bite her lips. As he trailed kisses along her collar bones she closed her eyes and blood rushed in between her legs. His rough hands grazed over the soft flesh of her hips and down her thighs. His reverent touches travelled down her bare stomach and her breathing hitched as he moved past her navel. His fingertips were stroking lazy circles up her thighs. Closer and closer to where she knew she wanted them. They continued to make their way up her legs as Javert moved his delectable mouth back up her torso. She was concentrating on his fingers as they edged closer to her and his mouth as it graced the skin of her neck once more. She wanted his hands all over her at once. His finger tips stroked her slit and she moaned quietly, trying to move her hips closer to his fingers.  
"Why, Mademoiselle Alliott." His deep voice in her ear would have made her knees weak, was she not already lying down. "You even _taste_ like sunshine." He said as he thrust his digit inside of her. She gasped and her eyelids fluttered open. She pulled his glorious mouth to hers and kissed him fiercely as his fingers moved faster, his thumb moving in circles over her sweet spot. She felt the fire in her belly grow and grow as her moans grew louder. He added a second finger and continued to thrust faster. He breathed heavily against her neck as her nails scraped the skin of his back.  
"Come for me." He demanded in the tone she loved so much. As if on queue she came, gasping his name, tightly closing and shuddering around his fingers.

She was breathing heavily when she opened her eyes after re-living her dream. Her own cool fingers stroked her cracked lips. She sighed tried to quell the itching desire between her legs.  
"It was just a dream." She said to herself. Then she realised that the noise had stopped. The fighting was over. She got to her feet and hopped onto to the lower ledge. She swung down and clambered safely to the ground below. Curiosity always got the better of her.

As his body sliced into the freezing water the air was forced out of his lungs in shock. It was like slamming into a block of ice. He resisted the urge to open his eyes and fight the current. It felt as though millions of ice-cold pin pricks were stabbing his skin. His lungs were on fire. His heartbeat pounded in his ears and his head felt ready to explode. He smashed into something and wanted to double over in pain. His body was being pulled and pushed in all directions. He had no idea which way was up. The furious thudding of his heart was gradually getting slower. He felt as though he was suspended in air, whilst being tossed and turned. He thought of his past, the things he would have done differently. But mostly, whilst drowning in the unforgiving waters of the Seine, he prayed. He prayed for his sins, to be forgiven and taken to heaven, to feel love. He felt his body begin to give in and his thoughts began to get fuzzy. Like his mind was filling up with cotton. His was no longer able to focus on praying, or the pain, or the sadness. Everything just turned as black as the swirling watery depths and Inspector Javert dropped out of all conscious thought.


	19. Settling Debts

**A big thank you to everyone who has Favorited, followed, read and reviewed my story :) It means so much to me x**

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She saw him jump. As he plummeted towards the raging water, her thudding heart ascended to her throat, and her mouth dropped open in shock. Her hand quickly pressed against her lips to stop any sound from emitting. But she was in such disbelief she could make no noise. She had been watching him carefully from the shadows for over a month. She never allowed him to see her because she was sure he detested her. She _knew_ he detested her. But her strange infatuation had taken her completely by surprise. She had never really thought of someone else for any amount of time. She had never been interested in anyone else's life. Until now. No boy, or man, had ever been able to capture her attention before. Not like this. Inspector Javert was something else, he was different to anyone else, she found him fascinating.

And now he had went and thrown himself in the bloody river.

For a brief moment she had stood motionless in shock . She couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't thin. But she soon snapped out of that. She simply couldn't stand by and watch the only man had ever held an interest for kill himself. She wanted to uncover more of this enigma. She wanted to understand the Inspector and figure out _why_ she was so intrigued. And she refused to be indebted to him for her life. She did not forget that she owed him her life. She seized this opportunity to repay the dear inspector.

She broke into a sprint. She knew she was fast, but she had not eaten for a day or two, her stamina was low. Her bare feet slapped on the pavement, barely even touching the ground, skimming over the rough cobbles. Her legs felt as though they were on fire. Her chest contracted until it was painfully tight. Her heart beat was thudding in her head like a dreadful drum. Her dirty blonde hair flew behind her as she ran. The Paris streets were a blur.

"Nicolette?"A burly voice called in surprise. "What's wrong?" A group of five heavy-built men were exactly where she had hoped they would be. She knew all of them, one better than the others; his name was Godard. They worked down at the shipyards, with heavy metal and flame, they were among the strongest men in Paris. They also dabbled in petty theft. They were decent men, good shipbuilders, and talented criminals.

"Please!" She begged "I need your help!" She gasped, doubling over, gulping air.  
"What is is?" Godard asked, concern etched all over his face.  
"Someone I know, a good friend, has fallen in the river. Please, I need your help getting them out." The men quickly agreed and she led them over to the river banks. She pointed towards the dark shape in the river, flowing quickly towards them.  
"I see them!" One said excitedly. Nicolette nodded.  
"Good, now tie that rope around my waist, and for the love of all that is good and holey; don't let go." She instructed. The heavy rope, which felt enormous around her slender waist; was slung around her and pulled tight. She took a deep breath and waded out into the murky water.

She gasped as her feet graced the freezing water. It was colder than anything she could have ever imagined. The water pushed forcefully against her weak legs, trying to sweep them out from underneath her, and she tried her best to keep her footing. She quickly grew exhausted after sprinting so far, tiredness crashed over her, and she felt like giving up. But she kept going, her determination steeled her on, she _would_ help the Inspector. If she didn't try to hurry, the Inspector could float on by, she wouldn't be able to get to him and he would surely drown.  
"If he hasn't already" She thought to herself. She nearly slipped over the rocks at on the river bed at least a dozen times. She could feel her feet grazing the rough surfaces and the jagged stones, but kept going. She reached the middle of the river, at last, and looked around desperately. The cold water was up to her neck and she could feel the coarse rope causing sores around her waist. She could not feel her legs or arms. She spied the Inspector's body floating rapidly towards her. She launched herself out of the water as far as she could; making a desperate grab for the body. She caught hold of his belt with the very tips of her numb fingers. But rather than stopping the body on its path down the river, she was pulled along with it, her face submerging in the chilly water. She broke to the surface coughing and spluttering, but clinging on to Javert all the same, using his body as a raft. Water flooded over her head again, she struggled for breath, and tried to kick with her unfeeling legs.

She felt the rope grow taught. Her friends began to pull her and Javert out of the water. She squeezed her eyes closed and whimpered in pain. Throwing her head backwards she cried out as the rope compressed against her. Nicolette was sure she was going to be sliced in two, split in half, and suffer numerous internal injuries. Her grip began to loosen, the Inspector was incredibly heavy, she felt ready to give up.

With an enormous heave the men hauled Nicolette and Javert onto the river bank. She choked and gasped as she lay in a wet dripping puddle next to the lifeless unmoving heap that was the Inspector.

"Nicolette." One of them said slowly, his voice dangerously low. She stared up at them, pale faced, with her eyelashes sticking together.  
"Is that who I think it is?" Another said gruffly. They had their eyes transfixed on Javert.  
"Yes" She whispered.  
"Why would we want to save him?" One snarled.  
"Because I asked you too!" she snapped, glaring at each of them in turn.  
"Give us one damn good reason not to toss him back in the drink." She shivered and closed her eyes.  
"If you help me, our debt will be settled." They stared down at her in shock. Her lips and cheeks were blue, she was shaking violently, but they knew she was deadly serious. She held them in a tight place. A few of them owed her the lives. Whilst Godard owed her his children's lives.

"Fine." They growled in unison. She crawled over to the limp body of Javert. Turning him onto his back, she bit her lip fearfully when she saw his grey ashen face. She lay her head on his chest, closed her eyes, and listened with baited breath. Then she heard it.

Soft, slow, barely there. But it was.

"He's alive!" She cried.


	20. Relief and exhaustion

**So tired O_O But yay! Next chapter - thank everyone for your continued support guys :) x**

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The men around her could hardly believe her cry of happiness. Javert certainly _looked_ dead. He was unmoving, unbreathing, and vulnerable. They watched as she desperately scrabbled at his cravat and ripping apart his top buttons. She muttered a quick apology to his slack face before plunging her fingers down his throat. He choked and vomited violently, gagging up inhaled water. Despite remaining completely unconscious he was alive. He had a heartbeat. He was breathing. He was saved.  
Nicolette cradled his head in her lap and kissed his forehead softly. Salt water dripped from her eyes, washing down her face. Each droplet a measure of her sadness and relief.

Godard knelt next to her on the grass.  
"If he catches a chill he will surely die, Nicolette, you both will." She sniffed and nodded, the moonlight shining through cracks in her hair, reflecting the wet tracks down her cheeks. Godard couldn't understand it, but this girl felt the need to save Javert, just as she had saved his babes. She had helped him without looking for reward and out of the goodness of her own heart, so he would help her now, to repay her kindness. "We will help you get him to safety." Hope spared in her eyes. "But no one must know that we saved..The _Inspector's_ life." He added gruffly.  
"Thank you!" she exclaimed, smiling despite the cold, her teeth clacking together. He pulled her to her feet and nodded to his companions who were lurking off to the side. They dutifully, albeit begrudgingly, went over and picked up the limp body.

They followed Nicolette as she led them away from the river. Down back streets and dark alleyways, shying away from lights and noise, they moved silently. Their feet scuffed but they spoke no words. About a dark street or two from Javerts home they stopped.  
"No further." One growled. She would have protested but she understood. This was not their part of town. They were uncomfortable in a place they don't know. They didn't trust these streets. And she doubted it would bode well if men of their chosen _profession _knew exactly where the great and wealthy Inspector Javert lived.

Nicolette thanked them again and they wished her well. She draped the Inspectors arm around her small shoulder and dragged him the rest of the way.

"Come on Inspector. Just a bit further." She panted. She turned onto his street with his full weight bearing down on her. She had to rest. She had to breath. Her legs and arms were protesting. They didn't want to move any further.  
"No" she growled, determination spreading like a fire in her belly. With renewed spirit she clutched the Inspector beneath his arms and hoisted him towards her chest. She pulled him along. Inch by inch. His feet dragged along the ground, mud and dirt from the street seeping up his trousers. Not his finest hour perhaps. Her feet were bleeding. Her arms felt about ready to pop away from their sockets. At some point she had begun crying. Not prettily crying with some tears slipping tragically from his eyes. But dirty, honest, mucusy crying. Sobbing so hard her chest shook. Her vision blurred and she stumbled. Once. Twice. Over and over again. But she persisted.

Finally, she burst through his front door, she gasped in relief.

Although she found that his body slid much easier along the polished floor, but she could have laughed at the notion of dragging him upstairs. She hauled him into his study instead, and lay him down next to the lit fire. Fetching a towel from the dry cupboard she gently towelled off his hair.

She smiled fondly when she had finished, his well groomed tresses mussed and sticking up at odd ends and angles. She took a deep breath as she knew what she had to do next. Cautiously and carefully, as though she may get caught in the act, she began to undo his coat buttons. Large brass buttons that shone up at her. She removed his heavy woollen jacket, his brown leather belt, and his shirt. Nicolette paused for a moment to gaze at his torso. A few scars here and there. He was toned and muscular, through daily routine as opposed to rigorous exercise. Dark hair was scattered over his chest and an intriguing line ran down from his navel. Absentmindedly she traced a fews of his scars. White marks that held tales of mystery and beauty. She had never seen a naked, or partially naked, man before. Nicolette found that she liked it very much.

Steeling herself, she removed his tough boots, his trouser and his socks. He had thick legs that were packed with muscle, developed from riding horses, walking the streets and chasing criminals. She could have laughed aloud when she caught herself, she was admiring the (almost) nude body of Javert! The most feared Inspector in Paris! She settled for an amused smirk.

She covered him with a heavy woollen blanket and placed a feathery pillow beneath his head. She was convinced that the floor was uncomfortable, but she would be damned if she was going to try and lug him onto a settee. She sat back in his armchair, pulling another blanket over herself, and sighing heavily. Exhaustion swept over her in a sudden wave now that she could rest. She was content to just watch the flames lick each other as they danced. To listen to his strong and even breaths. Her heart settles in her chest ; He was safe. He was alive.


	21. Fire lit conversations

**I have not written for a long time, and i apologise SO so much. Thank you to every single follower and reviewer, i appreciate you more than you know. :) Once again, i am sorry for the delay. x**

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Warmth wrapped around him like a woman's gentle embrace. He felt good for once. He felt content; at last. He felt comfortable. Or he would if his bed had not grown so hard. Then he remembered. The fight with the revolutionaries and the death of his friend and the jump.

The Jump.

He was dead. It was over. He opened his eyes and felt ice cold terror constrict around his heart. He stared wide eyed and breathless into the crackling flames. Had he been sent to hell?  
He soon realised that it was in fact, a fireplace. He fell back, gasping in relief, with his arm flung over his eyes.

He glanced over and saw Nicolette, sweet Nicolette, beside him. He had been right. She had died. And whether this was heaven or hell he did not care; as long as she was here to annoy him. As he gazed he realised that she was dripping wet and shivering violently. Why was she wet? And was that… blood? She had crimson on her clothes and cuts on her hands. She was curled up in an armchair. _His_ armchair. He looked around and noticed certain, familiarities. For instance, this looked exactly like his study. He groaned and shut his eyes. This _was _ his study. What was he doing here? He gingerly reached up and touched his face. Was he still alive? How? He didn't know. Why? He hadn't the faintest idea.

"You're awake!" he turned and saw her smile. She looked awful. There were dark circles under her tired eyes. Her hair was matted and bedraggled. Blood and dirt, and grime caked her skin. Yet he still thought she looked perfect. For a gutter rat, he reminded himself.

"How am I here?" He growled. The firelight danced in her eyes as she gazed at him for a moment.  
"You fell into the river last night, I helped you out and brought you here. I didn't believe that you would want to be taken to hospital." She smiled at him sleepily and rested her tired head on her arms.  
"You foolish girl!" He snapped. He watched her jump where she sat. "I didn't fall, I jumped!" His eyes glittered fiercely. She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes.  
"Well I know that." She said quietly. "I watched you."  
"Then why did you pull me out?" He spat furiously. She sat up with a jolt and winced.  
"Because you saved my life once remember?"  
"That was different." He growled.  
"How?" She asked while stretching. He turned his icy glare towards the flames. Yet, it was not their heat that melted his cold exterior, but the warmth from the girl that held him in her gaze.  
"You needed saving." His voice was barely above a whisper.  
"So do you." She replied as softly. He ignored her use of present tense. After a pause he turned to face her again.  
"How on Earth did you succeed in getting me here?" He asked incredulously. She snorted.  
"Blood, sweat and tears. And a few friends who owe me a favour or two." His eyes narrowed to slits of mistrust.  
"You managed to find people willing to save my life, and not for the joy of killing me themselves?" Nicolette suppressed her grin.  
"I did not say they were willing." Her eyes traced his form. "And they were very big favours." After a moments pause he glanced back at her.  
"Why are you all wet?" She stared at him with a shocked gaze, as though the answer was printed in the air between them. "Well?" He demanded.  
"Well somebody had to jump in and haul you back out again." Her dry undertones made the very corners of his mouth twitch for a moment.  
"You endangered your life." He scolded.  
"You endangered yours." She quipped. He opened and closed his mouth, but had to settle with merely glaring at her.  
She tried and failed to disguise a tremble that coursed through her body. He hissed in expression of annoyance.  
"Sit by the fire." He growled. She eyed him warily. "Come here." He instructed. Still she hesitated on his armchair. He sighed impatiently. "If you die in my study tonight it will greatly inconvenience me." She rolled her eyes but lifted herself out of the chair and sank gracefully to the floor.  
"How are you feeling?" she mumbled.  
"For gods sake, I am not a sick child!" he scowled. She smiled happily.  
"Much better I see."


	22. Coffee

**Next chapter is uuuup ladies and jellyspoons! Thank you for the reviews :) So how are we feeling on the whole smut/lemon topic? Just wondering, anyways, enjoy :D And if you have any ideas let me know. x **

**This is the chapter i meant to upload, but somehow failed in doing so, and didn't even notice for another 9 hours! Sorry :S x**

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"Much better I see." Javert couldn't help but smirk this time. His lips turned up at the corners and his frown slipped away. Just for a second. But she saw the man behind the mask. She pulled her heavy blanket tighter around herself. She felt cold despite sitting right next to the fire. Entranced, she watched the flames dance, listening to them crackle. The silence in which they sat soothed her mind, it washed over her like a calm wave, she felt peaceful. This, Nicolette realised, was due to Javert. He was a quiet man by nature. He said few words. She rather liked that.  
"Why did you jump?" She whispered, without tearing her gaze from the amber glow. Javert scowled, she could feel him glaring at her.  
"That's none of your business." Her eyebrows flew to the top of her forehead and she whipped around to face him.  
"I nearly _killed_ myself trying to save you; I think I deserve some kind of explanation." His green eyes appeared almost black when they met with hers. He sneered down at her.  
"I didn't ask you to." He snapped. She refused to be intimidated, she refused to let him beat her with a mere look.  
"Well I could hardly stand by whilst the great Inspector Javert threw himself into the river and to his death now could I?" She said dryly, rolling her eyes.  
"Maybe you should have." He muttered darkly. Nicolette emitted a strangled cry of exasperation as she rose to her feet. Shaking her head she walked past him and away from the fire. The Inspector just glared into the fireplace, his mouth set in a stubborn line, his form rigid beneath his blanket. But he found himself following her feet as they swept in front of him. He decided that, perhaps, she could have nice feet. If they were cleaner. They were small, pale, and somewhat graceful. When she had stormed out of the room, he marvelled once again at her bravery, and cursed her stupidity. The blanket caused him to itch his chest where it has rubbing. As he reached into the blanket to graze his fingers over his chest he suddenly realised that he had barely any clothes on. Blood rushed to his face when he realised that she must have stripped him of his clothes. She had seen more of him than any woman in nearly twenty years. Finding his throat suddenly dry he swallowed heavily. He heard a lot of banging coming from his kitchen, but declined the urge to investigate further, deciding instead to pull some clothes on.

A moment or two later she reappeared, holding two steaming mugs, and wearing a smile.  
"And what" Javert growled as he turned to face her, "is this?"  
"Coffee." She said simply, holding the cup of tanned liquid out to him. He took the hot cup rather reluctantly, and stared at it through dubious eyes. "It'll do wonders." She murmured, taking a sip of her own. He thanked her under his breath and begrudgingly raised it to his lips.

"So." She said as they resumed their positions on the floor. She settled next to him, closer than before, he noticed. "Why did you jump?"  
"I've already told you- " He snarled.  
"And I have already told _you_." She interrupted. "You will have to tell me eventually." Something in her demeanour and her tone made him realise she was probably right. That she would most likely nag at him relentlessly until he gave in. He sighed, the frown upon his brow deepening further.  
"A friend of mine was killed during the fighting." He took a sip from the bitter drink. Nicolette felt sadness seep through her limbs.

"I offer you my deepest sympathies." She said gently. Javert glanced at her in shock, kindness did not come his way often, and though it did from her; he was still not used to it.  
"I thought you were dead?" He said suddenly, as though the thought had just occurred to him. She looked at him in shock.  
"Me? Why?" She asked.  
"You haven't been seen for weeks!" The volume of his voice rose slightly.  
"I told you," she said calmly. "If you want me, just ask around, and you will find me."  
"I didn't want you!" He exploded furiously. "I was enjoying my life without an annoying street rat!" To this Nicolette said nothing and just drank her coffee. Javert failed to notice the tear drip down her cheek. She scolded herself for allowing herself to become upset. She knew that Javert was not a nice man. His words were not kind and she did not expect them to be. She accepted the fact no one wanted her when she was just twelve years old.

"No I don't" Javert spoke suddenly and quietly. So much so she couldn't be sure if he had said anything at all.  
"No you don't what?" She asked; thoroughly puzzled.  
"You asked me once, if I had dreams, well no I don't." She stared at the man beside her through wide blue eyes. Then she snorted, in the most inappropriate manner.  
"You can have some of mine if you like. I have far too many. And I highly doubt any of them will come true."  
"So why have 'dreams' in the first place?" He sneered. She sighed and shifted, contemplating her answer.

"I guess" she said slowly. "It's not the dreams that help but the hope that, somehow, some day they'll come true. And on the days when life feels like trying to swallow thick cement, dreams help to sugar coat that a little." He was highly surprised to receive such an honest answer from a street urchin. Even if it was complete nonsense.


	23. Problems and solutions

**Well thank you so much to everyone who is being patient enough to sit through my story :) I love you all  
I would like to thank my reviewers, my followers, my favouriters and my readers :D xx**

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The Police Inspector sniffed in disapproval.  
"Well at least I _have_ dreams!" She snapped irritably, her eyes flashed in annoyance.  
"Which will undoubtedly lead to a despairing feeling of disappointment and complete failure when you don't achieve them which; you have not." He pointed out with a raised eyebrow and a crooked smirk. He looked at her, challenging her to argue back.  
"I'm only nineteen!" She cried indignantly.  
"Most women are married with off spring by your age. And yet, you have failed to do even that." He remarked. It was not said in spite. He had not meant to be cruel. It was merely an observation. He felt the air surrounding them turn cold suddenly. The warm atmosphere turned to a frosty silence. She looked as though he had just struck her. Her mouth fell open and her eyes grew wide, filling with hurt. Wordlessly she rose and left the room.

The Inspector frowned in his confusion. What the hell had he done now? It was a simple fact that most young women were betrothed to a suitable partner and had, at least, one or more off spring by the age of twenty years. So why on Earth was she so upset? Javert groaned loudly and dropped his head into his large hands as he realised his mistake.  
"Because." He muttered aloud. "That _is _what she wants."

Nicolette sat bolt upright at the kitchen table in the dark. Her form was rigid as she stared silently into the blackness before her. Her lip trembled and her hands were shaking despite her best efforts to still them.  
He didn't know she told herself. He didn't know that she secretly longed to be a wife, to be a mother. That she yearned for these things daily. He didn't see her watch children with hungry eyes and the crackling anger that sparked, bright within her soul, when she saw their mothers ignoring them. He didn't feel the envious rage that climaxed inside her when she saw young couples strolling down the street, hand in hand. She knew she could grasp these things, if she so chose. She knew of several young men who would hop, skip, and jump down the aisle with her; blessing her with babes on the way if necessary. All she had to do was say "yes". Several charming young men, young suitors. They could provide for her, worship her, perhaps even make her happy.  
But that brings us to the second, and perhaps most important, part of her dream. Nicolette Alliott wanted love. Mind consuming, soul destroying, heart soaring love. The type she read about in books, when she could get hold of them. The sort that all of those young men couldn't give her. The sort she _knew_, in her heart of hearts, didn't exist; but she believed in and searched for anyways. These were her dreams. They didn't amount to much. But these were the small promises she made to herself that kept her going. That kept her warm on the cold nights. That kept her smiling in the rain. That kept her believing in the goodness of the World. And Inspector Javert had just slapped her in the face with them.

Behind her she heard his hesitant footsteps. The usual confident stride replaced by unsure and soft footfalls. Of course it may have been because he was barefoot. But she was sure it was more than that. She was almost positive the man made as much noise barefoot or no. She felt him pause outside his own kitchen door. Debating, and arguing with himself whether or not to come in. She held her breath as she waited. Eventually one side must have gave in for she heard the creak of the door. Soft thudding of his feet padding across the floor. The harsh scrape of the chair next to her as it was dragged across the floor. And then his masculine scent invaded her senses as he sat down next to her, making her head feel light, and a blush rise to her cheeks. The Inspector exhaled heavily.  
"I" he paused. "Apologise, if anything I said upset you in anyway." She shook her head and glanced down, her blonde tresses falling forwards and obscuring her face from view.  
"No." She said thickly "I shouldn't have got upset so quickly." There was a momentary silence where Inspector Javert studied the young woman in front of him. "I know." She said suddenly, startling him as she turned to face him. He cheeks glistened with tears and her eyes were red. "I know that they are ridiculous notions but it is what I want." He sat silently as a slightly glazed looked came over her bright eyes. "Some days it feels as though I am reaching for a light in the dark, but as time passes it keeps fading. I just can't seem to reach it and I know that one day, one day it won't be there any more. It will have gone completely." He recognised that feeling immediately, as one of his own, but he said nothing. Her shoulders slumped once more.  
"I'm sorry." She mumbled. "I don't know why I'm bothering you with this."  
Javert sat next to her, felling quite useless. He was, to say the least, unaccustomed to this sort of behaviour. He didn't know why she was bothering him with this either. He was unsure of how to comfort someone. He had never had to before. He didn't have any answers to her questions. He didn't even have the answers to his own damn questions. He had just tried, and failed he might add, to commit suicide for Christ sake!

"I think." He said gruffly, shattering the silence with his deep rumbling voice. "We could both do with a stiff drink."

Nicolette looked up in surprise. After a seconds pause a small smile crept over her face. She wiped the salty tears away brusquely with her hands. She cleared her throat and grinned up at him.  
"Dear Inspector, I do believe you are correct."


	24. Drinking and other things

**WARNING bit of kissing in this chapter (yay!) Also, may have to explain a few things; **  
**Dram is a Scottish (Probably Irish too) Measure of Whiskey. **  
**Slainte is just what Scottish/Irish people say when drinking Whiskey, sort of like Cheers i guess. **  
**In case you had not yet gathered I'm from *cough* "sunny" Scotland! Thank you :)**

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The cold sun was rising over the smoky streets. The air was freezing, you breathed it in sharply, and it got into your bones. It chilled your lungs and glazed over your brain. But sweat prickled across Javert's forehead. Ice cold sweat trickled down his face and beaded on his upper lip. He glared at the rising orb. His skull pulsed and his mind hurt.

On hindsight, drinking whiskey was probably not the best decision he had ever made.

Against his best efforts, his thoughts circled hungrily around the events of the night before; when the moon, not the sun, lingered in the sky.

Inebriation was not a new experience for Nicolette. Whiskey was her personnel freedom on many cold nights; when she could obtain some. It still hurt her throat to drink the amber liquid, but the pain was welcomed. She felt the warmth spread through her bones and chased away the chill.  
The Inspector greeted the Whiskey like an old friend. He swilled it around in his glass before bringing it to his welcoming lips. As it burned a path down his throat Inspector Javert felt at peace. He closed his eyes. Liquor had been his guilty pleasure for years.

He glanced over to Nicolette, not caring if the drink was to her taste. But she was busy pouring herself another dram.

"Slainte" she muttered, before tipping the glass back. He was slightly pleased and extremely surprised at how artfully she drank the stuff. No hesitation, no –expected- feminine face pulling, just a soft "ah".

"You drink." He observed quietly.  
"You breathe." She smirked in reply, the familiar glint in her eye gleaming brighter than ever before. She stood, gripping her glass in one hand, and; after moments hesitation, the neck of the bottle in the other.  
"Care to join me?" she muttered coyly, shaking the bottle, and leaving before he could form any response.  
She wandered back to his study.  
Javert watched her go, tracing her retreating figure with his gaze, swallowing heavily. He was suddenly unsure of himself, suddenly unsure of her, but he was intrigued by this girl.  
He no longer felt in control, and now he _knew_ there was more to her than he first thought. He discovered he liked it.

On hindsight, drinking whiskey was _definitely _not the best decision he had ever made.

She watched him carefully as he walked into the small room, made smaller only by his large form. Compared to the harsh lines emphasized by daylight, the fire gave his skin a soft glow. His white cotton shirt was loose, a few buttons undone at neck, it was revealing by Javert's standards. She had never seen the Inspector dressed without his collar fully buttoned before. His braces hung low around his thighs and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow. She watched the muscles in his forearm move with curious fascination as he raised the glass to his mouth. If he noticed he did not show it, moving only to wander to where she sat and held out his glass. Dutifully she refilled it, and he sank to the ground next to her.

They were both lonely despite their self-denial concerning the matter. She was depressed and alone, despite her sunny nature. He was suicidal; there was no hiding that fact. Throw drink into the mix and it becomes a lethal combination.

His green eyes were brighter than the leaves before Autumn, more colourful than the grass on the fields from he memories of her youth, his eyes were something else all together.

She was vaguely aware that she was staring but she did not, she could not, look away.

"You're bleeding." He said, glancing at her hip. It took her a moment to realise what he had said. He pointed to the red stain seeping through her material.  
"Must have been from the rope." She mused.  
"You should bandage it." He sipped from the glass, noticing that most of the bottle had disappeared.  
"Maybe later." She muttered, feeling heat burn in her cheeks. The Inspector saw his chance to regain control over the situation.  
"No, now." He demanded. He got to his feet and retrieved some items from a cabinet. She took them from him gratefully and thanked him under her breath. He watched her scrutinize each item carefully.  
"What _is_ the matter?" he barked. She turned her blue-eyed gaze upon the man before her. Her eyebrows pulled together.  
"I've never bandaged anything before!" She snapped. He stared at her in utter disbelief. "Although it must be relatively straight foreword." She peered at the items once again, stroking the material. Javert sighed in irritation and contempt.  
"Sit on the desk." She began to protest, "Just sit _down_ you foolish girl!" She obeyed him meekly, but could not disguise her loud exhale. He approached her and she was suddenly very aware of him.  
"I need to actually _see_ the damage before I bandage it." He snatched the cloth from her hands and she hesitantly lifted her shirt an Inch or two. It revealed an angry looking sore that was bloody and torn from where the heavy rope had worn her wet shirt. Javert sighed and went to work. His finger tips grazed her skin and she flinched. He held back the angry scold on his tongue. He had walked the streets often enough. He knew what women went through. Rough, clawing hands was probably all she had known. Javert didn't look into her face.  
Once again he reached out. This time she did not flinch.  
Her skin was soft and smelled of, vanilla he thought.  
"Sorry." He murmured, when he heard her gasp quietly.  
"Mm hm." She replied through a tightly clenched jaw. But her gasp had not been in pain. His hot breath ghosting over her skin was making her have un-Christian thoughts. And when his fingers scratched against her hips she felt quite short of breath. She had never encountered such gentleness before. Contact with others left her with bruises. But not him.  
"Are you ready for the next one?" His deep voice rumbled. She swigged from the bottle and nodded.  
The pain was incredible, but bearable.

She let her head fall back on the desk and stared up at the ceiling. The alcohol was doing its work, dulling the pain, and her thoughts. She felt his warm hands on her body, touching her like no man before. She closed her eyes and breathed heavily.

Javert stood over her, trying his best not to hurt her. Perhaps he didn't need to run his hands over her body quite to the extent which he was. But it was irresistibly smooth. He finished patching her up; it hadn't been that serious. He studied hr carefully. Her eyes were closed and her chest was rising and falling heavily. Like she was sleeping. But she was nibbling her bottom lip. As if to test this he traced his fingertips over her stomach. A little frown developed between her eyes.  
Perhaps it was the alcohol. Perhaps it was loneliness. But his fingers did not stop. Her ran them over her skin, memorising the feel of it. He inched up her top until he could feel the outline of her ribs under his big hands.

The pressure building in her stomach felt heavenly. A craving moan escaped her lips. Javert froze as her eyelids snapped open. That hadn't meant to come out. She sat up abruptly and ended up closer to the Inspector than ever before.

Chest to chest and nose to nose they were both breathing heavily. Her eyes searched his for answers. He was as lost as she was, drunk on whiskey and the feel of her skin. She splayed her fingers across his muscled chest and savour the feel of his heart beating.

The kiss was hot and fierce. It consumed her mind and he forgot himself and his troubles. His hands fisted in her hair and hers slipped around his torso and grasped his back. Her tongue slid into his mouth, curling around his own, running across his teeth. He pressed her body tighter to his and ran his hands over her face.

His head was pounding yes, he could still taste the whiskey on his lips. But he could also taste her, feel her under his hands, see her in his mind. The drink may not have been the best decision, but what the drink had led to definitely was.


	25. Inspector Javerts Undoing

**Thank you for the continued support :) I love all my followers! If you have any ideas or suggestions don't hesitate to let me know :) R&R xx**

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He could feel her heart pounding in her chest beneath her thin shirt. It had been a long time since he had a woman pressed against him and felt the warmth of a woman's touch. Her smell, vanilla and sunshine, it was all around him. Her lips were like her, rough around the edges, but gentle and soft where it mattered.

She was smart. Smarter than most. But at that moment, with his mouth crushing hers and his hands all over her, she could not formulate a single thought apart from how good he felt. His hands raked over her thin frame, making her shiver, she pulled him closer.

Nicolette gasped heavily into his mouth and he bit back a moan. He felt the warmth grow in his groin. He thrust his hands into her hair and felt the tendrils tangle in his fingers. What was he doing? This was unexpected from a street ra-… Wait. What _was _he doing.  
"Stop." He snarled, stepping away from her. He glared at her with such fury she almost felt intimidated. Almost.  
"I will not be swayed so easily you little whore." His lip curled and he pointed his finger at her, "I will not be ensnared you, you little temptress!" He spat. She blinked in confusion. The sudden loss of his heat, his hands, his lips; came like a blow. Javert turned to stalk away.

Her mind suddenly became very clear. Her lips, still red, turned up into a snarl of their own. She snatched his lapels and dragged him towards her. Caught off guard the Inspector tripped towards her and found her mouth being pressed hungrily to his. His surprise rendered him unresponsive for a moment. He tried to pull away again. But she was holding him fast, with surprising strength, and emitted a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. He cocked and eyebrow and allowed a rare smirk to pass his lips.  
Sensing he was going to stop trying to escape from her, her hands slipped up into his hair. She grabbed a fistful and pulled so he was forced to tip his head backwards. He did so without complaint, not that she really gave him a choice. She began trailing sweet kisses along his jaw and down his neck. As she gently sucked the tender skin of his neck he lost all coherent thought. A deep rumble started in his throat. His grip on her arms tightened. He could not hold back his moan this time. A fire ignited deep in her belly as he ground their hips together. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer. As their hips collided they both gasped at the contact.

The Inspector mumbled something incoherent. She pulled back and stared up at him.  
"Pardon?" Her cheeks were flushed, her lips were swollen, and in her eyes he saw want. He saw need. He saw burning desire and lust. He could not quite believe it was for him.  
"We cannot. I will not allow this to go any further." There was that frown again. The crinkle in between her eyebrows. The stubborn set of her jaw. The fierce blaze in her eyes.  
"Why?" She demanded.  
"It is not right for a woman to lie with a man until she is wedded." Javert sighed and looked at the ceiling, wishing his body would comply with his brain.

She gazed at him with her mouth parted and her hair mussed.  
"No one has, I mean, I didn't think anyone, but that is…" She trailed off lamely and dropped her eyes to her lap.  
"No one has ever said anything so nice to me before." She said quietly. Javert himself scowled in surprise. He took her arm and pulled her gently from the table with that tenderness she was shocked by.  
"I believe we should get some sleep. We have had far too much drink to make any sensible decisions." Nicolette nodded in agreement. She walked in front of him, winding her way up the staircase and along the hall. The Inspector could not help his gaze raking over her body. The gentle curve of her hip, the swell of her breasts, her slim neck. The way her body just floated elegantly as she walked. She opened a door and he looked up, snapping hastily out of his thoughts. He smirked.  
"Actually, I believe you will find that this is the master bedroom." She lifted her gaze to meet his.  
"I know." Javert shifted uncomfortably.  
"This is my bedroom."  
"I know." The Inspectors patience wore thin and his temper spiked in seconds.  
"If you think for a single moment that I am going to sleep in the guest room, and let you have _my_ bed, you are very much mistaken." She turned away from him without a word, and in the darkness he saw her reach behind and pull at the ribbon attached to her skirt. She turned her head and watched him over her bare shoulder as the material slipped to the floor. The Inspector knew the proper thing to do was look away, but he could not. His stare remained fixed on her form as she stalked around the bed with the power of a beautiful young woman. She slipped beneath the white sheets with an elusive smile. Propping herself up on one arm, her hair sprawling over the pillow, he swore time itself stopped and he had a revelation. Nicolette Alliott, street rat and former inmate was a woman. An attractive, confident, young woman. An attractive, confident, naked young woman. And she was in _his_ bed. And she was expecting him to join her.

"Separate rooms was not exactly what I had in mind." She drawled.

Inspector Javert exhaled loudly and closed his eyes. But still he could not vanquish the image of her gazing at him through the shadowy expanse of his bedroom. Her blue eyes piercing, and shining. He swallowed heavily and tipped his head back toward the ceiling. Perhaps he hadn't realised it when he first saw her in that rotting cell, but he realised it now. She was going to be his complete undoing.


	26. Terribly timed queries

**I know it has been a gazillion years and im terribly sorry, so have something a little steamier as a present :) I love you all! x**

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Javert exhaled heavily and composed himself. He turned to the side and averted his eyes.  
"Get out of bed, put your bloody clothes on, and leave my bedroom!" He thundered. The naked girl dragged her gaze over the Inspector. If she had been a lesser woman, or had a little more to loose, or had less confidence; she may have complied. Instead she pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.  
"No." Javert felt his eyebrows fly towards his hairline at her sheer audacity.  
"What do you mean, no?" He spat. She arched a slender brow and fixed her gaze directly below the Police man's belt.  
"I mean, no." Inspector Javert snarled loudly and left his room, slamming the door behind him.  
Bloody girl! It was improper for a maiden to be in a gentleman's house unaccompanied, never mind in his bed expecting him to… Javert glanced down at his trousers. Perhaps it would be best if he did not dwell on what she was _expecting_. He clomped down the hall and threw open the door to his spare room. Inside was cold and empty and dark. It was unwelcoming and he did not care for it. The hour was late and Javert cold not find the energy within him to kindle a fire. He toed off his heavy boots and pulled at his clothes, leaving everything in a pile at his bare feet, before clambering into bed. It was smaller than his, and so chilled that he was forced to huddle down, and pull the sheets right up to his chin.

He emptied his mind and closed his heavy eyes, the weight of the day slipping away. The pillow was soft beneath his head and the sheets, despite their chill, caressed his weary skin. Javert strayed into dream and felt peace settle over him at last. He lay facing the door, listening to his own breathing, allowing himself to relax at last. She came to him in his slumber, he sat up with tireless eyes and gazed at her approaching figure. A white sheet was draped around her and her hair tumbled around her shoulders. She came toward him and hesitated. Javert did not dream often, and when he did, it was nothing like this. He opened his mouth to speak and she pressed hers against his. He could taste her in his mouth and feel her pressed against him. His fingers were in her golden hair and he marvelled at the softness.  
"This is but a dream." He murmured. She smiled softly down at him.  
"It is a good dream." She ran a finger over his lips. She lowered her head to his and held his face in her hands. He pulled her closer to him with strong hands. She pulled at the sheet so she could straddle his muscular thighs. As his tongue invaded her mouth she could not stop the low moan escape her throat. He trailed kisses along her jaw line, nipping and sucking at her sweet neck, enjoying the taste of her tender skin. She instinctively ground her hips against his and he nearly drew blood in shock. She stroked the hair at the nape of his neck,  
"I have never dreamed like this before." She whispered. He drove their hips together and started kissing her shoulder.  
"Neither have I." He growled. He felt her freeze and her form turn rigid. He felt annoyance swell inside him. What was wrong with the foolish girl now? "What?" He demanded, still not relenting his ministrations.  
"If I am dreaming, how can you be also?" She stammered. His grip on her hips grew tight and he pulled away to look her in the eye. Anger filled them and he opened his mouth to speak.  
"You-" She pressed her small hand over his mouth and smiled down at him.  
"Shh" she pleaded. She pressed a small kiss to his cheek. "We owe it to each other." She whispered softly. "Just tonight." The Inspector tried to resist but it was difficult, considering his obvious arousal betraying him. He growled.  
"If you tell me you honestly do not want this" She took her hand away from his mouth. "I will not protest and will leave without resistance." Javert stared at her, as though seeing her for the first time.  
He could not fathom why she wanted him. Why she would so easily lie with him. He knew she had most likely had relations with many young men. He had been with a fair number of women, although not for many years. He was feared now, people drew away from him, so why her? He had no answers, he knew only that he had a beautiful woman sat on his lap, and she was willing to lie with him. Instead of bearing the humiliation of answering he pulled her towards him and kissed her softly. He stood up and turned, lying her down so she was lying below him. She arched her back and kissed him fiercely. Javert reacted on instinct and his tongue once more gained access to her mouth. She nipped his bottom lip and his low gasp fuelled the fast growing fire in her stomach. She pulled away but before he could resist her small nimble hand went to his shirt, elegant fingers unbuttoning it. Her eyes widened as she parted the fabric and for the second time that night gazed at the Inspectors chest. Unconsciously she licked her lips, unsure and uncertain of what to do next. Javert took the lead and slipped the sheet from her bared shoulders, exposing her to him completely. His eyes never left her creamy skin as her dragged his rough hands over her skin. She trailed her little hands down his ribcage and made him shiver. He pulled her up to him and the spark ignited when skin met skin caused them both to gasp. He trailed kisses over her body, his tongue swirling over her collar bone, her breathing becoming heavier. She sought his trouser and began to pull at them. Ghosting them over his hips they lay together, without any clothes, the heat was immeasurable. His weight atop her was almost crushing yet it was comforting. She explored his body and he explored her mouth. He drew his calloused hands down her body and only when he began drawing lazy circles up her thighs did the kiss break. She gasped and drew him closer. Her mouth fell open as drew his fingers down her stomach and between her thighs. He groaned as he found her clearly ready for him. He dipped them inside her and she gasped, digging her finger nails into his skin.  
"You're so…" He paused. "Nicolette…" He trailed off gruffly. She panted his name in way of question.  
"Have you been with a man before?" He realised his assumptions may have been very wrong, and this was a terribly timed query.

Her flushed cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as she shook her head. Javert nearly groaned in dismay before catching himself, realising how that might look to her. He pulled away from her a moment. Gazing down at her in her euphoric beauty; her tenderly brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.  
"If you are sure you want this," He murmured pausing a moment as she nodded. "It would be my honour." She rewarded him with a breathtaking smile and pulled him down on top of her, capturing him in a kiss.  
"I am yours for the taking Monsieur." She whispered.


End file.
